


WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE

by anecdotalist



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (not any of the protagonists), Alternate Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Obikin Big Bang 2018, Pre-Slash, mention of past Obi-Wan/Jango Fett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14259243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anecdotalist/pseuds/anecdotalist
Summary: War has broken out between the Republic and the Separatists. But that is of no concern to Ben, one of the best bounty hunters in the galaxy. All he’s focused on is his next target…until he’s invited to a tournament of hunters on Serenno. There, he meets a young Jedi Knight—the Hero With No Fear, Anakin Skywalker—who’s disguised as bounty hunter Rako Hardeen.Ben’s made it a point to avoid Jedi but fate, or the Force, it seems, has other plans.





	1. Prologue - The Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the idea of the opening scene goes to Dendral, who had helped me out with worldbuilding and plot development and cheered me on when I was writing this.

The affair, like all those hosted by Alderaan, is an understated but classy one: a speech about the need to continue sending humanitarian aid to planets throughout the Republic during the war. Representatives from other Core worlds are present, as well as any interested citizens of Alderaan and all the major holonews stations.

It is a well-attended affair and will be a well-publicized one.

Ben focuses the scope of his rifle on the center of the stage, where the Senator is preparing to speak. He’s surrounded by a group of staffers but Ben knows that they’ll fall back to take their seats momentarily. He does a sweep of the room through the scope, pausing on a group settling into balcony seats a few levels below him and directly across the amphitheater.

There’s a gray-haired man in a distinguished suit sitting in one of the seats like it’s a throne. Even from this distance, Ben can see the large ring on his hand that identifies him as the head of the Janiyah Syndicate. Arrayed around him are a group of men and women in black and white suits—personal guards, most likely. One of them is kneeling at the railing of the balcony.

Ben frowns at the rifle braced against the man’s shoulder. He swings his own rifle back to the stage and takes a closer look at the Senator. There, nearly concealed by the riot of colors on his coat, is the red circle of a guiding laser, just over his heart.

Ben narrows his eyes. He focuses his own aim and takes a slow breath. On the exhale, he pulls the trigger.

Senator Bail Organa falls on stage.

As people start shouting in confusion, he shifts his rifle and shoots again.

He watches just long enough to confirm that the older man is dead in his balcony seat before he swiftly disassembles his rifle and packs it into the slim black suitcase at his side. He strolls out of the amphitheater unimpeded but waits until he’s in the midst of the crowd at a shopping plaza to make the call.

“Ben here. Target is down.”

 

* * *

 

Amid the rising chaos, Padmé rushes onto the stage, heart pounding while she hurries to her friend. “Bail!” she cries out, falling to the floor at his side.

Around her, his aides are talking over each other, sounding flustered and panicked. One particularly level-headed one is calling for emergency services.

“Bail?” she asks, closing her hand around his arm. It looks like the bolt had gone through his right shoulder. There are faint wisps of smoke from the wound, and the smell of burnt flesh.

Bail groans and shakes his head. “I’m alright, Padmé.” He looks down at his shoulder and winces. “At least it was a plasma bolt, so I’m not going to bleed out.” One of his aides hands him a folded square of cloth and he takes it with a nod of thanks.

“How are you so calm about this? Bail, you’ve just been shot!” Padmé feels a little hysterical in her relief. “You’re just lucky whoever it was was a bad shot.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I suspect he meant to shoot me here.”

“He? You know who it was?”

“Not for certain. But it was probably that bounty hunter. Help me up, we should get off of this stage. Every time he’s around, something explodes or someone gets killed. For all we know, there could be a bomb in that podium and he shot me to get me away from it.”

Padmé blinks at him incredulously. “‘That’ bounty hunter? You mean, your bounty hunter _stalker_?” Bail struggles to stand and she automatically shifts her hold to give him support to lean against. “Is this his bounty hunter way of flirting with you? He pushes you off of balconies and shoots you?”

“That balcony was rigged with explosives,” Bail reminds her absently. “He saved my life.”

“Bail, this can’t continue. When are you going to report him to Republic police?”

As they start to make their way off the stage, he says, “He’s a nice guy, Padmé. I think you’d like him if you ever get to meet him.”

Padmé just shakes her head. “Only you could get into these situations,” she says with fond exasperation. It isn’t until they’re away from the stage and emergency services personnel have arrived that she realizes the implications of what he had said. “Wait, what do you mean, he’s a nice guy? Have you _talked to him_?”

Bail chuckles nervously. “Oh, didn’t I tell you?”

“Shiraya give me strength,” she sighs.


	2. Chapter 1 - Bounty on the Zygerrian Queen

When they arrive at the auction house on Zygerria, buyers are just starting to filter in. They pass through the security checkpoints without any difficulties, their blaster pistols deemed to be standard issue and within allowed parameters for personal protection.

Once inside, they peel off in separate directions: Ahnuuk taking flight onto the roof with strong beats of her brown and white feathered arms; Giz’ahan and Koy’itar blending in with the enslaved twi’leks in the crowd to get to the stands on either side of the Queen’s covered platform; and Ben and Vinnath weaving through the crowd moving towards the stands directly across the arena from where Queen Miraj Scintel will be sitting.

Vinnath hands him her blaster as they walk and adjusts the curved blade strapped to her thigh. He disassembles it quickly and removes the gas cartridge, depositing the remainder of the components into her webbed hands.

“I’m in position,” Ahnuuk says softly over their in-ear comms.

“Good,” Ben says. He takes his own blaster out of its holster and removes the gas cartridge, replacing it with Vinnath’s larger one. It clicks into place though it juts out awkwardly. He frowns and eyes it critically. He wishes he had one of his sniper rifles instead but they wouldn’t have been able to get them through security. “I’m only going to have one shot with this,” he mutters. The tricky part won’t be the shot, though. It’ll be timing the shot and the explosion of an overcharged and overheated blaster.

He reaches into his pocket for the small targeting scope and attaches that to the top of the blaster. The round monocle he’s wearing over his right eye activates and a small digital grid with a red target in the center appears. A red dot in the upper right flashes a couple of times before changing to a solid green and he nods to himself, satisfied that it synced properly with the scope.

“You’re such a tease, nerra,” Giz’ahan says.

“I almost wish you _would_ miss so that _we_ can get a shot at the _schutta_ ,” Koy’itar adds with barely concealed disgust.

“It’s only fifty meters, numa. We’re only going to be able to get a hit in if his blaster explodes before he can shoot it,” Giz’ahan says. Then she spits, “ _Frang it_ , I’m blocked on this side. There’s someone standing next to the Queen.”

“Guard?” Ben asks as he slips out of the flow of the crowd and takes a position behind a column. Vinnath steps up next to him and casually places her dark green hands on the railing, looking down into the empty arena with its square wooden platform.

“No. He’s wearing their armor, but his helmet’s off. He’s human.”

“A guest,” Vinnath murmurs.

“He...he looks like that Jedi war hero. The Hero With No Fear?” Giz’ahan sounds hesitant, and for good reason. What would a Jedi be doing out here? “There’s someone else behind him but I can’t make them out clearly.”

Ben frowns. He sets the butt of his modified blaster pistol on the railing and angles it at the balcony while he leans casually against the column. The video input from the targeting scope displays in his monocle and he can see the Queen sitting in her chair. “I have a clear shot,” he tells his team. Then he pivots his blaster and takes a look at the Queen’s guests. In addition to the human male—and with the wavy brown hair and telltale scar over his right eye, he is most certainly the famed Jedi war hero—standing next to the Queen, there’s a young togruta female in a glittery two-piece outfit with jewels draped over her montrals. She’s dressed like a slave but her stance and expression are all wrong. “That’s the Jedi alright. The girl behind him must be his apprentice.”

“What are Jedi doing all the way out here?” Koy’itar asks, unknowingly echoing Ben’s earlier thought. “I’m in position now, by the way. I have a clear shot if we need it.”

“Good. Ahnuuk, see what you can find out about the Jedi and why they’re here,” Ben says. “Meet us back at the ship.” The rishii species’ senses of hearing and sight were better than most, which made Ahnuuk an ideal lookout; combined with their affinity for languages, they made her an information gatherer with no equal.

“On it.”

“Are we aborting?” Vinnath asks.

“No. The Jedi’s presences change nothing.”

Down in the arena, the auctioneer walks out and begins to speak; almost all eyes focus on him.

Ben lets the zygerrian’s magnified voice fade from his immediate notice. He aligns his shot, centering Queen Scintel’s crowned forehead in the target of his monocular viewscreen.

“Prepare yourselves,” he says. Then he pulls the trigger.

 

* * *

 

Anakin listens grimly to the auctioneer welcoming the crowds of buyers. How so many sentients could support such a repulsive practice he doesn’t know. He only hopes that they’ll be able to get to the togruta colonists in time. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Rex moving into position in the stands. His clone captain gestures at the blaster in his hands and Anakin gives a slight nod.

The doors down in the arena slide open and the governor of Kiros staggers out.

Anakin turns towards Queen Scintel, thinking of how he could subtly ask her about the location of the slaves—

—only to see her suddenly slump down in her chair, golden crown cracked in the middle of her forehead and wisps of smoke rising from a neat plasma wound. Her eyes stare unseeingly forward.

He whips his head around, scanning the stands for the assassin. He catches a flash of red disappearing into the shadows on the upper level but then there’s an explosion on the lower level that pulls his attention away. Plaster and rubble rain down on the arena and the crowd starts screaming.

“Master, what’s going on?” Ahsoka shouts over the din.

“I don’t know but—” he sees the zygerrian guards that had been stationed at the doors move towards them out of the corner of his eye—”let’s get out of here, Snips. Artoo, our lightsabers, please.” R2 ejects them from the top of his dome and they catch them just in time to switch them on to deflect shots from the zygerrian guards. Anakin backs up to the railing and chances a quick glance over, judging the distance. “Jump, ‘soka! Get the governor. I’ll cover you.”

His Padawan nods resolutely and climbs up onto the rail, then flips off of it. R2 beeps at him, fires his rocket boosters, and follows Ahsoka.

Anakin takes out the guards and then jumps off the balcony himself, landing lightly on the sanded ground of the arena. He looks over and is gratified to see that Ahsoka has already helped the governor up and has a secure hold on him. There are a few guards firing down at them but—he glances up into the stands around them—fighting seems to have broken out in multiple places which is keeping the majority of the guards occupied.

“Master, Governor Roshti doesn’t know where the rest of his people are,” Ahsoka says as she helps him limp over. “What do we do? The Queen was our best lead.”

“Please, Master Jedi, my people,” Roshti says hoarsely. “We can’t leave them.”

There’s a shout and a thud behind them and Anakin turns, raising his lightsaber into a defensive position. He only sees Rex, though, rolling to his feet and firing up into the stand. A zygerrian tumbles down into the arena and doesn’t get up again.

Rex jogs backward towards them, blasters held at the ready. “So what’s the plan, General?”

“We have to get out of here. I’m sorry, Governor Roshti, but we’ll contact the Council once we’re back at the ship. Maybe they’ve found more information.” Anakin tries to project optimism but it’s hard to do so through the dismay of losing their chance of finding the togruta. Every delay prolongs their suffering. _Trust in the Force_ , he hears Qui-Gon’s voice reminding him. It’s one of his master’s favorite refrains and he had heard it frequently during his years of training.

When they finally make it back to their ship, there’s a piece of parchment adhered to the door. ‘Kadavo’ is printed on it in script. Anakin glances around, though he suspects that whoever had left it is long gone by now.

“Do you think that’s a trap?” Ahsoka asks suspiciously.

Anakin shakes his head, but not in a negative. “I don’t know. Let’s just put some distance between us and—” he waves his hand in the direction they had come from, where the fighting is likely still going on “—that, first. Then we can call the Council and figure out our next move.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, that was fun,” Koy’itar says with a gleam in her eye. She props her feet up on the ship’s console and twirls one of her blades idly. There’s variously colored ichor drying on it. “I think I would have even done that one for free.”

Ben grins wryly. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. We’ll lose our main source of income.” He finishes wiping down the pair of black vibroknucklers he’d taken off a trandoshan slaver during the melee and holds it up for inspection.

Koy’itar smiles sharply at him. “I know.” She whistles admiringly. “Those are nice. Good eye.”

“You say that like I targeted the owner specifically to get these,” Ben says mildly.

“Didn’t you?”

Ben just winks in response.

“So, Ben,” Vinnath says, coming up behind him and draping one arm over his shoulders, “bounty collection and then drinks at the House?”

“Exactly what I was thinking, Vinn. Exactly what I was thinking.” He and the mon calamari share a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference:  
> Ahnuuk is a [rishii](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Rishii)  
> Giz'ahan and Koy'itar are [twi'leks](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Twi%27lek)  
> Vinnath is a [mon calamari](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Mon_Calamari)


	3. Chapter 2 - The Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: A lot of Dooku's and Eval's dialogue were taken directly from the TCW episode 'The Box'.

“Congratulations,” Dooku’s miniature holographic image intones, expression severe and haughty. “You are among the select few who have been chosen to receive a _personal_ invitation to an exclusive tournament of bounty hunters on Serenno. Only the best will be present to compete for a prize that is beyond comparison. The competition will take place in one week’s time. It would be...prudent of you to accept.”

Ben glances over at the pair of droids who had delivered the message to their headquarters. Next to him, Ahnuuk ruffles her feathers and gathers herself. He turns his head to meet her unhappy eyes and gives a small warning shake. She looks over to the droids too and subsides with a grimace.

Vinnath puts a webbed hand over his shoulder and squeezes, digging her claw-tipped fingers in just enough to convey her own displeasure.

Ben reaches up and taps her hand twice: _agreed._ “I accept,” he says into the communicator.

“Your response has been recorded.” Dooku’s image blinks out and the communicator shuts off. Ben hands it back to the droids and watches as they turn and march away down the hall. He waits until they’ve turned the corner to close the doors.

“I don’t like this!” Ahnuuk bursts out, hands clenching tightly.

“I don’t trust Dooku,” Vinnath adds. She releases him and crosses her arms.

“I know.” Ben doesn’t either; there’s something about the former-Jedi-turned-Separatist-commander that doesn’t sit well with him.

“He’s been trying to hire you for years. And now this farce?”

“I know, Vinn. But he’s up to something and I think it behooves us to find out what it is.”

“I’ll drop you off,” Ahnuuk says. “And I’ll stay nearby in case you need an extraction.” Her eyes gleam sharply and her tone brooks no argument. Ben doesn’t even try. Ahnnuk may be the youngest of them but she’s fiercely protective of her family unit.

“Very well. Vinn, when Koyi and Giza return, let them know what happened. Then take the House to our secondary base to use as headquarters until I return. I don’t want to risk Dooku using anyone as leverage against me.” House Olgkru is small compared to the other Houses in the guild—only fifteen members—but they prefer it that way. They don’t have the infighting that the larger Houses have, though their tendency to close ranks around each other is unfortunately too well known.

“I’m liking this even less,” Vinnath mutters but she nods in confirmation.

“Ahnuuk, we’ll leave in the morning. It’ll take us nearly the whole week to get there and I want to scout the area before the tournament.”

“Alright. I’ll make sure the ship’s ready. And sharpen my spears, just in case.”

 

* * *

 

“Welcome to Serenno. You have been invited here because you are the best bounty hunters in the galaxy.”

There are fourteen beings gathered before Dooku—fifteen before Cad Bane had killed one to get his hat back. The only one that Anakin recognizes aside from Eval and Bane is Embo, who stands passively with his arms crossed and large-rimmed hat shading his eyes; the kyuzo seems to have recovered fully from his injury on Felucia. He wonders briefly where the rest of his team is, and how the farmers they had reluctantly worked together to protect against Hondo’s pirates are doing.

Dooku goes on to introduce everyone and praise their accomplishments but Anakin can’t take his eyes off of the only other human hunter: short spiky ginger hair, lightly bearded, dressed in a long coat with a high collar. He has a slim sniper rifle propped casually against his shoulder and is somehow magnetic even though he has yet to say a word. He watches Dooku like he’d rather be anywhere else in the galaxy.

Anakin’s not the only one looking at him; some of the others are eyeing him curiously too and Embo had given him a nod in greeting earlier. He’s thankful for the helmet he’s wearing which allows him to face Dooku while actually watching the other hunter.

“Rako Hardeen, the Marksman of Concord Dawn,” Dooku says and Anakin barely manages to tamp down on his startle response enough to just nod at the mention. There’s a hint of disapproval in his aristocratic tones and Anakin doesn’t know if it’s because he suspects Anakin’s real identity or because he’s upset that Rako Hardeen had swindled his way into the competition.

 _Kriff, I need to focus!_ He hates stealth and infiltration missions; he’d never been good at remembering his cover. _The Council should have given this to Quinlan._

Then Dooku gets to the name that Anakin’s been waiting to hear: “Ben Sharpshooter. Some call you that because of your skills; others because of the rifles you favor. We’ll see if you truly live up to your reputation here.”

Ben just arches a brow and looks unimpressed.

“In a few minutes, all of you will enter what we call The Box,” Dooku says. As one, they turn and take in the massive cube floating over the ground, lit up by spotlights placed at even intervals on each side. “Some of you will not make it out alive. For those of you who do, we are looking for the five most skilled among you. Additional survivors will be eliminated to preserve the integrity of the job.”

“That’s just kriffin’ ridiculous,” Ben snaps. “No bounty is worth our lives. And I’m insulted that you feel the need to _test_ our skills before you even tell us what the job is.”

The others shift restlessly. Some look annoyed; some look like they’re eager for the challenge.

Dooku looks nonplussed. “This job will be more than just a well-rewarded bounty. Those we choose will be remembered as being part of an operation that turned the tide of the clone wars. When we succeed, we will bring the Republic to its pitiful knees.” He clenches a fist in emphasis.

Anakin barely resists rolling his eyes. _And Qui-Gon says that_ I’m _dramatic._

Ben snorts and actually does roll his eyes. “Like we have any stakes in the outcome of the war.”

A droid escorts a long, wheeled tray over. “Place your weapons here.”

Ben frowns. “I don’t think so. I’ve heard enough here.” He turns and starts to stalk away.

“Leaving now would be a mistake. I am not an enemy you wish to have,” Dooku says, tone mild but full of promise. Behind him, the MagnaGuards activate their electrostaffs and raise them threateningly.

Ben halts. He slowly, deliberately, turns back, thins his lips, and stiffly sets his rifle onto the tray with the others’ weapons. He pulls out a couple of knives from various sheaths and adds those to the pile. He doesn’t say anything but the glare he gives Dooku and the jerkiness of his movements speak volumes about his fury.

Moralo Eval steps forward. “Listen up. The box was designed by me, Moralo Eval, to simulate certain situations that might happen on the job. Go now, enter the box.”

When they’re enclosed in the cube, the sides light up in a large holographic display showing Eval’s magnified face. “Before we begin our first challenge, let me say that there is only one rule inside the box: there are no rules.”

“Should’ve just let the droids kill me,” Ben mutters in disgust. Anakin can’t help snorting; it draws Ben’s attention to him which makes him flush.

Embo asks a question in Kyuzo, which Anakin doesn’t understand. Eval seems to, though. “The point, my friend,” he says in response, “is to escape, and quickly, because only the survivors will advance to the next challenge.” Then his image blinks out and leaves just the multitude of white screens surrounding them.

Seconds later, one of the floor panels drop. The opening emits a green gas. “Dioxis,” Ben says, using the collar of his coat to cover his mouth and nose. “Breathe it, and you’re dead.”

Everyone immediately backs away from the hole. Around them, floor tiles whirr and start to rise up. Anakin hops up on one of them and sees the others fighting to get onto them as well. There aren’t enough for everyone; the lucky ones get to the top of the columns, the rest cling to the sides.

There’s a brief break in which the columns stop moving and Anakin looks around, wondering what the catch is.

Then one of the columns starts to rise again; the hunter who had been standing on it leaps off just before it connects with the ceiling and braces herself between two columns to stay above the gas. One by one, the other columns rise too.

“They’re going to force us all back down into the gas,” Anakin warns.

Ben looks up at the ceiling and then down into the gas speculatively. He appears calm and collected, as if he isn’t about to be crushed to death. “There’s no way out from up here. So the exit must be down there somewhere.”

Anakin looks down. The gas has spread to cover nearly the entire floor. “The filters in my helmet will protect me for a few minutes. I’ll scout a way out,” he volunteers. He sends a silent thanks to the unlucky clone whose helmet he had found in that pawnshop on Nal Hutta. Then he jumps off his column and lands lightly on the floor. He looks around but doesn’t see any other depressed tile besides the one the gas is coming from so, with a mental shrug, he hops in.

The air is clean under the level of the ground. He runs his hands over the walls, trying to find a trigger mechanism to either shut off the gas or open a door. They’re meant to escape, Eval had said, so there must be a way out.

One of the panels suddenly recedes behind him with a hiss of hydraulics. He drops down and watches it but doesn’t see an end. Lights blink on in the newly created tunnel. This must be it.

“Drop into the hole!” he calls back up into the room. “It’ll get you beneath the gas and there’s a tunnel. I think that’s our exit.” Then he starts crawling through the tunnel, hoping the others will follow. They may be bounty hunters, but he doesn’t like the thought of them losing their lives needlessly. This whole mission leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

When he climbs out, he finds himself standing on a raised platform in the middle of a darkened room. Cad Bane is the first one to come out after him. “What took you so long?” Anakin asks with a smirk. He’s developed a fondness for needling the durosian bounty hunter in the course of their prison break and trip to Serenno. He offers a hand but Bane, unsurprisingly, slaps it away and clambers up on his own.

He offers his hand to Ben instead, for very different reasons, and feels his heartbeat race when he takes it with a slight tilt of his head and uses it to pull himself up. They’re both wearing gloves but Anakin has the sense that if they hadn’t been, there would have been an electrical spark when their hands connected.

Ben must win a lot in dejarik because Anakin can’t tell from his expression if he had the same feeling.

 _Focus, Skywalker!_ Anakin chides himself. This is no time to get distracted.

“Moralo Eval is impressed,” Eval says; the walls light up into a holographic display again and his image appears in front of them. Moralo Eval has an annoying habit of referring to himself in the third person, Anakin’s noticed. “No casualties in the first challenge.” He chuckles. “I guarantee you that will not be the case in the next.” The screens shut off and they’re left in darkness again.

There’s a whirring sound and a laser spike protrudes out from one of the wall panels. With a whoosh, the wall panel suddenly slides out at them. Anakin gets just the slightest warning nudge from the Force and shoves the rodian hunter out of the way while he leans back himself to avoid being impaled by the spike. As it recedes back, others start to slide out around the room. A panel in the ceiling opens and shines with a bright white light.

Everyone ducks and spins around the room to try to avoid the spiked horizontal columns. It looks like unpredictable chaos. But Anakin knows that few things are truly random; there’s a pattern here. There has to be. He centers himself and reaches out with the Force, trying to see the larger picture.

“There’s a pattern to the blades,” Ben announces just as Anakin’s figured it out himself.

“Yeah. That one’s next,” Anakin adds with a nod, ignoring the part of him that wants to keep Ben talking to him. He has a distinct Core-based accent and it makes his words curl deliciously.

The column Anakin had pointed to emerges just as predicted and he resists the urge to look over at Ben and see his response, if he’s impressed that Anakin’s picked up on the pattern too.

“If we time it right, we can climb up to the exit shaft,” Ben offers with a gesture up at the ceiling and Anakin feels a thrill that he’s included him in that ‘we.’ For a second, all the other bounty hunters fade from his mind and it’s like it’s just the two of them, on an especially odd, nonsensical but potentially fatal mission. His heart rate picks up with the thrill of the challenge.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Anakin says and without waiting for Ben’s response, he makes the first jump. He feels Ben right behind him, and behind Ben, the other hunters. He marvels at the speed and agility and reflexes the others have; some of the columns are far enough apart that he has to use a bit of the Force to boost his jumps.

He reaches the exit shaft in the ceiling and jumps up, getting a grip on the ridges between the wall panels in the shaft. He climbs up and finds himself in yet another cubic room.

He groans. _Will this never end?_

 

* * *

 

“I’ve lost visual. They all went into a giant floating black cube forty minutes ago,” Ahnuuk reports. “I’m maintaining position in orbit.” She sits back in the pilot’s seat and runs a hand through her feathers absently.

Koy’itar sighs on the other end of the line. “Great. Well, I’m sure that Ben will be able to surpass whatever test Dooku wants to throw at him. Just take deep breaths and stay calm. Don’t pull at your feathers.”

Ahnuuk stills her hand and nods even though Koy’itar wouldn’t be able to see it; they’d decided on a voice-only call for security. “Right.” She forcibly takes in three slow breaths, blowing them out loudly enough that Koy’itar will be able to hear that she’s following her directions. Then she groans. “I don’t like this. It makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Me too. But Dooku won’t kill Ben. He wants him working for him.”

“Why’s he so obsessed with him anyway. He already has his own assassins,” Ahnuuk mutters bitterly.

“He wants the best and Ben’s at the top of the game.” She knows that Koy’itar’s shrugging. “Besides, his assassins like to use those glowing laser swords. Intimidating but not exactly great for stealth.” There’s muffled talking on the line and then Koyi’tar says briskly, “I have to go, we’re heading out. Keep me updated, numa.”

“You got it.”

 

* * *

 

“The final challenge has arrived,” Moralo Eval announces; unlike in the other rooms, there’s no video to accompany his voice. The floor tiles around their small platform open to reveal flamethrowers. The temperature of the room ratchets up when they all ignite.

Embo asks a question and a panel in the wall slides back to reveal Eval himself. “Unfortunately, no,” he says in answer. He taps a button on his control bracelet and part of the floor rises up. The tiles close and the flames go out, leaving the group with a larger platform to spread out on.

Eval taps on his bracelet again and a section of the wall opens to reveal a compartment holding a sniper rifle. “We are going to test your sniper skills,” he says. Another tap on his bracelet activates a small glowing target on the wall. “Hit the target.”

The yellow light zips across the wall until it stops in the center of one tile directly across from them. The entire wall recedes to what Anakin assumes is a sufficiently far enough distance to be a test for a sniper.

Anakin and Ben both turn to the rifle but Sixtat stands between them and it. “Step back, boys,” the sakiyan hunter says, holding up a hand. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Ben cocks a brow at him but shrugs a shoulder and gestures expansively at the rifle. Anakin reluctantly follows his lead.

Sixtat takes up a position at the edge of the platform and takes aim at the moving target. He fires and the target blossoms into a diamond, indicating a hit. Then the target moves again. He fires a second time and again, another diamond. But the third shot is a miss and before any of them can move, the tile under Sixtat as well as the rest of the row disappears. He falls to the flames with a scream.

Eval laughs.

“Oh, I see. If we miss the target, this platform gets smaller,” Ben says. “If we keep trying and failing, there won’t be anything left for us to stand on. And we die.” There’s a whirring sound as another compartment with a rifle is revealed. Ben grabs it and weighs it in his hands, expression thoughtful; the rest of the hunters watch him tensely.

It looks like a blaster-based rifle, set to the lowest intensity. Whatever Eval’s using for his target must have a chemical or heat reaction that’s set off by plasma bolts in order to form those diamonds.

“I can try next,” Anakin volunteers. He’s sure that his Force-enhanced reflexes would be better for the task, and the possibility of Ben falling to his death is...disturbing.

“Doubting me, Hardeen?” Ben asks mildly. There’s a glint in his eye that makes Anakin backtrack quickly.

“No, not at all. I just—” but Anakin doesn’t know what he was ‘just.’ Ben makes him feel more flustered than he’s felt in years.

“Go ahead, Ben,” Bane says. “Let’s see if you’re as good as they say.”

Ben gives him a sharp grin and strides to the front of the platform. The rest of the hunters crowd near the back. Anakin glares at them and defiantly stands closer to Ben. They may not feel confident about Ben’s ability but Anakin does, though he doesn’t know why since he hasn’t seen the other human shoot yet.

Ben clicks the safety off the rifle, brings it up to his eye, shoots once, twice, three times in quick succession. Diamonds bloom across the wall.

 _Oh, fuck, that was hot_ , Anakin thinks through the haze of lust that’s suddenly engulfed him. He feels lightheaded as all of his blood rushes down to his groin; it feels like he’s floating. Then he realizes that he actually is moving up; part of the platform is rising up until the rest of them tower above Ben.

One by one, the tiles drop and Anakin yelps, skipping back until he’s in line with the other hunters. By the time the tiles stop shifting, there’s only one elevated row for the hunters to stand on. Below them, only one row remains and that extends out perpendicularly over the fire-covered floor.

Ben stands at the end of that row, highlighted by the flames. He must be sweating from the heat with his long overcoat but he looks as cool and unruffled as ever. The fires may as well not be there for how little attention he pays them.

“This is not the first time you’ve saved everybody’s skin, Ben _Sharpshooter_ ,” Eval says with a sneer. There’s an ugly jealous look on his face that doesn’t bode well for Ben. “Five more hits. Let’s see how good you really are.”

Ben hefts the rifle in his hands. “There’s not enough left in this for five more hits,” he says.

“Trying to get out of the challenge?” Eval asks. “Five more hits.” The target splits off into two and goes in opposite directions along the wall.

Ben turns back to the wall and watches the movement of the targets. He’s a little slower this time, more deliberate in his aim, but he hits the targets cleanly four times. For the fifth attempt, he swings the rifle up and takes aim at Eval, who stumbles back. The rifle's setting means that even a direct hit wouldn't be lethal, Anakin knows, but it doesn't mean that it wouldn't still be painful as hell.

One of the other hunters gasps but Anakin can’t take his eyes off of Ben to see who it had been.

Ben pulls the trigger.

All that happens is the empty click and beep of a blaster that’s run out of ammunition.

“See?” he says. “Not enough for five more frangin’ hits. You cheated.”

“What’s the meaning of this, Eval?” Anakin bursts out. “That wasn’t a fair challenge!”

Eval ignores him and snarls at Ben. “You still lost.” He presses a button on his bracelet and the floor under Ben drops.

Ben dances back as each subsequent tile disappears but he eventually reaches the wall and has nowhere else to go. The floor under him drops and he falls with a shout.

“No!” Anakin screams.

But Bane is the one who reacts, shooting a wire out of his wrist brace that wraps around Ben’s arm and stops his descent. Ben looks up, visibly surprised.

“How dare you defy Moralo Eval,” Eval growls.

“If you’re gonna kill him, do it like a man,” is all Bane says. He sounds calm but Anakin can sense his anger. The other hunters are also radiating dissatisfaction.

“You heard him, Eval,” Dooku’s voice says seconds before his image appears on the holographic wall. “Show us what _you_ are really made of.”

The inner floor tiles close, leaving just a border of fire. The opening that Eval had been standing in closes, pushing him out and into the room. A column rises up under Ben and he drops down onto it; it lowers him onto the ground.

Eval looks around, then taps something on his bracelet. A ceiling tile slides open and probe droids fly out. They make straight for Ben, shooting at him. He ducks the shots, kicks the first droid into the wall and throws the second one into the third.

The fourth one hovers out of reach and Anakin huffs. Before he can think better of it, he jumps off the platform himself and catches the probe droid. It goes swinging around the perimeter of the room, trying to shake him off, but he hangs on until he can direct it at Eval. It knocks Eval over but the phindian rolls with the momentum and throws it over his shoulder; it explodes against the screens.

“Stay out of this,” Ben tells him, eyes narrowed at Eval.

Anakin backs off, hands up. “I just got sick of him hiding behind his toys.”

“Try this, then,” Eval says and presses a button on his bracelet again. Tiles on the floor rise up and form a maze. He disappears into it and with a grumbled “ _Karkin’ hut’uun_ ,” Ben follows.

 _That’s Mando’a,_ Anakin thinks. _Rex says that sometimes. I wonder if Ben’s Mandalorian too._ He crosses his arms and taps his foot impatiently. He glances up at the other hunters who seem to be completely engrossed in watching Ben chase Eval down in the maze.

Then Eval runs out and taps on his bracelet again. A section of the wall rises up and closes Ben in. There’s a whooshing sound from inside the maze that has Anakin stepping forward to try to help but Ben appears on the top of the wall before he can do anything.

He crouches down before springing forward and tackling Eval. “It’s time to even the playing field,” he says and slams Eval’s arm hard against the floor. Anakin almost cheers when the bracelet short-circuits with a zap. The floor levels out and even Dooku looks intensely interested in the ensuing fistfight between the two hunters.

Ben is the eventual victor, pinning Eval on the edge of the platform with his head dangling almost into the flames.

“Finish him, Ben,” Dooku coaxes.

But Ben just stands and walks away with a disgusted shake of his head.

“Very disappointing,” Dooku tsks.

“I don’t have anything to prove to you, Dooku,” Ben says evenly.

“It is unfortunate that your leadership skills are so lacking.”

Ben doesn’t react. The platform that the others are standing on lowers to the ground. Besides the two of them, Anakin notes, Derrown, Embo, Bane, and Twazzi are the only ones still alive.

“Nonetheless, congratulations on surviving the box,” Dooku says. Anakin rolls his eyes, glad that his helmet affords him enough privacy that he doesn’t have to mind his facial expressions. “Tomorrow, you will kidnap Chancellor Palpatine at the festival on Naboo.”

Anakin frowns. So that’s been the plot against the Chancellor? _But the Jedi will be guarding him, there’s no way they’re going to succeed_ , he thinks. _What is Dooku playing at?_

“With the leader of the Republic as our hostage, we will demand the release of all Separatist prisoners. If our demand is not met, the Chancellor will be executed. Either way, you will help reshape the galaxy. Once you are all aboard the transport, Eval will walk you through his plan. However, the operation on Naboo will be run by Cad Bane.” Given the shock on Eval’s face, that hadn’t been part of the plan.

When they exit the cube, they’re greeted by the sight of the tray carrying all of their own weapons. Everyone outfits themselves with a sigh and more than one check their blasters for signs of tampering. They walk towards the large ship waiting for them, bay doors open. Dooku stands in front of it with a pair of MagnaGuards flanking him.

“We have one last matter to attend to,” he says when they draw to a halt. “If you’ll recall, I specified that we only needed the five best hunters. There’s currently six.”

Anakin glances uneasily around. Dooku’s gaze lingers on him with a frown. But then his eyes slide over. Anakin breathes easier with the weight of Dooku’s attention off of him; he’d worried that he had broken cover somehow, that Dooku had figured out who he really is.

“Twazzi,” Dooku says gravely. “Your presence is no longer required.”

The MagnaGuards arm their electrostaffs. Twazzi backs up a step and readies her rifle, eyes hard. Anakin pulls his blasters out and aims one at each droid; they’ve lost enough people today. He’s not willing to stand by and let someone else die, criminal though they may be.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Dooku asks. “A little soft-hearted of you, isn’t it, Hardeen?”

Anakin does his best to channel not his former master, but Master Windu when he says, “No. I just detest needless killing.”

“Perhaps we don’t need either one of you, then.”

“I happen to agree with Hardeen here,” Ben chimes in. There’s a click like he’s cocked his rifle, but Anakin doesn’t dare look away from Dooku and the droids to check.

“Stop, stop,” Eval cries out, stepping in between the two groups. “Moralo Eval needs at least five for the plan. We can accommodate one more, but we can’t lose two.”

Dooku frowns thunderously and Anakin doesn’t envy Eval. “Very well, then. Since it’s _your_ plan, I’ll let you decide how to handle the extra.”

“Yes, good,” Eval says but the glare he throws at Dooku’s back when the Count turns away makes Anakin wonder if he hadn’t just stepped in as a form of petty revenge for Dooku giving the lead on the job to Bane.

Twazzi sweeps by with a glare of her own for Anakin, which leaves him feeling blindsided. _Why is she mad at_ me _?_ There’s no one he can safely ask, though, so he resigns himself to leaving it a mystery.

Eval disappears into his own cabin as soon as they board the ship; to make adjustments to his plan, Anakin supposes. Dooku and his guards head for the cockpit and he makes it clear with his glare that none of them are welcome there.

“Well, I’m going to go get my beauty rest,” Bane announces and leaves with a sardonic tip of his hat.

Anakin looks around; Twazzi’s nowhere to be seen so she must have also gone straight to a cabin. He takes this opportunity to sidle up to Ben, removing his helmet as he does. Licking his lips nervously, he says as casually as he can, “So. That was some impressive shooting you did back there.”

Ben arches a brow at him. “You think so?”

“Yeah. Some of the best I’ve ever seen.” It’s not even a lie, though his main form of comparison are the clones and he doesn’t work much with the sniper division.

Embo mutters something and stalks off. Anakin had forgotten about him until that moment. _Oops._

Ben snorts, possibly at whatever Embo had said.

“You know a lot of languages,” Anakin observes. “You knew what Derrown was saying back there, too. About his blood and the serum.”

Ben’s lips curve up in amusement. “It helps in this business.” He cocks his head and his gray-blue eyes sweep up and down Anakin; Anakin flushes. But all Ben says is, “You seem familiar to me somehow.”

A wave of panic washes away his lust. He forces out a chuckle. “Oh? We haven’t...worked together in the past and I’ve forgotten, have we?” _Please say no, please say no, please say no_. He’d known it was a potential hazard, running into someone who actually knows Rako Hardeen—

“No, we haven’t,” Ben says and Anakin wants to gulp in a couple of breaths but he can’t because then Ben would wonder why he’s so relieved. “That’s why I find it so curious.”

Anakin musters up a smile. “Well, maybe I just have one of those faces.”

Ben hums noncommittally. “Perhaps.”

“So,” Anakin starts, because he knows this will be his only chance and if he misses it, he’s going to kick himself for it forever, “you know what would be really good in helping us relax and prepare for the job tomorrow?”

“Sleep?” Ben asks.

“No, I mean—”

Ben’s hand on his arm stops him mid-sentence. “I know what you meant, Hardeen. But I’m sorry, I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“Oh,” Anakin says, heart dropping. “Of course not. I mean, I don’t either. Usually.”

Ben nods. “I’m glad you understand.”

“What about after?” he asks abruptly when Ben turns to go.

Ben stops and looks at him over his shoulder. “As a general rule, I don’t sleep with other hunters. It makes things complicated.”

“Yeah, of course,” Anakin says, thoughts racing. “I meant, what about working together again after this? We were a good team back there. It’d be a shame to...to just not...do that again.” He winces inwardly. _Very eloquent, Skywalker. That’ll really impress him._ But there’s something about Ben that draws Anakin to him; he doesn’t know what but part of him is screaming at him not to let him go.

Ben turns fully and looks at him with eyes that feel like they’re looking into Anakin’s soul, like they can see that Anakin had just made up that flimsy excuse in a desperate bid to keep Ben from leaving. “Okay,” he says after what feels like an eternity. “Sure. We can exchange contact information and keep the option open.”

“Great,” Anakin says, relieved. Ben hands him a small communicator and Anakin inputs the number to the burner that he’d been given for this assignment; he’ll just have to hope that the Temple Quartermaster doesn’t notice it missing when he returns everything else. He sends himself a message so that he has Ben’s comm address and returns the communicator. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes. Have a restful trip.”

“Thanks Ben, you too.” _‘Thanks Ben, you too’? Very smooth, Skywalker_ , Anakin thinks to himself with a snort as he watches Ben walk away.


	4. Chapter 3 - Bounty on the Chancellor

They commandeer a warehouse on Naboo and gather around a table to finalize their plan just hours before the scheduled festival. Dooku gives a paltry speech about them being “immortalized in history” with this job and being paid well enough to retire.

 _If we all survive this, of course_ , Ben thinks. He has a bad feeling about this job and he doesn’t know if it’s just because he usually avoids Dooku and couldn’t this time, or if there’s something else going on; he feels like they’ve all played too neatly into his hand.

“Listen up.” Bane tosses out a handful of datapads onto the table. “Each device tells you your position and essential details about your part.”

“How do all the pieces fit together?” Hardeen asks, picking up the device closest to him.

“Derrown is going to breach the ray shields,” Bane outlines. “Moralo Eval is the getaway driver. The two of you—” he looks between Embo and Twazzi “—are going to act as guards protecting the Chancellor. Ben is the sniper. And you, Hardeen, will be releasing dioxis into the crowd to keep the real guards occupied while we make our escape. Once we have the Chancellor, the devices will lead you to the rendezvous point. Any questions?”

Bane hands a case each to Ben and Hardeen. He doesn’t, Ben notices with a frown, say what he himself will be doing.

“You got a problem?” Bane asks him in a deceptively lazy drawl.

“It just seems like an overly complicated plan.” Ben keeps his tone deliberately mild. “But what do I know? I usually kill my targets, not abduct them.”

Bane narrows his eyes at him. Eval huffs but at a sharp look from Dooku, he just crosses his arms and snaps his mouth shut.

When nobody asks any questions or makes any other comments, Bane moves on. “Now for our disguises.” He spins a circular, dome-shaped projection device into the center of the table. “Everyone step back.” They do and images of five armored Senate guards are projected around the table. “This will get us into the inner circle. Step into the shadow hologram and receive your new identity.”

Ben does so at the same time the others do and marvels at how complete the disguise is. He shrugs his shoulders and turns his hands over, taps his foot; the hologram never wavers. He’s never used one of these before, but it may be worth the investment. He makes a mental note to bring it up with the others when he gets back.

They disperse from the warehouse and make their separate ways to the Royal Palace. Ben follows his own instructions to a tower that overlooks the plaza and climbs to the uppermost floor. He can feel the hologram wearing off as he reaches the top and hopes for the sake of the job that the others’ will hold out a little longer.

There’s a balcony attached to the room he’s directed to and he peers out quickly to ascertain that he does indeed have a clear view of the plaza where the Chancellor will be leading the ceremony. Then he ducks back inside and opens the case that Bane had given him. There’s a decent quality sniper rifle inside, though not as good as his own. He assembles it quickly and checks the power pack and electromagnetic emitter. There’s only enough power in the rifle for one shot. He rolls his eyes.

When he checks the case to ensure that he had found every piece and there aren’t—he wishes—any additional gas cartridges or power packs, he finds an activated comm device. He narrows his eyes and picks it up. “You’re a cheap, suspicious bastard, Dooku,” he snaps into it before crushing it under his boot. He sweeps the remains up and deposits them back in the case.

“Who does he think he is,” he mutters lowly. “Testing us and now spying on us. Thinks he’s better than every other client who’s hired a bounty hunter for a job?”

The ceremony will start at dusk; Ben hunkers down in a corner where he can see out through the balcony doors but can’t be seen himself and pulls out his comm. As he had hoped, there’s a message from Vinnath already waiting for him: _Got it._

He places a voice call to her and waits only a second before she answers.

“Ben,” she greets, tone even and serious. “You’re well?”

“Yes. What did you find?”

“Hardeen’s number was just activated about a week ago.”

“A burner, then.”

“Likely. He was taken into custody around that time for allegedly killing a Jedi. He would have needed a new phone when he got out.”

Ben nods. “I’ve heard. Bane didn’t sound too impressed. Which Jedi was it?”

“Skywalker. His former Master was the one who tracked Hardeen down and brought him in.”

Ben frowns, remembering the Jedi standing next to the Queen on Zygerria. He’d had just brief glimpses of him after the fighting had broken out, deflecting shots and flipping backwards off the balcony railing onto the floor of the arena, green lightsaber flashing. “Skywalker? I find it highly unlikely that he would have been taken down by Hardeen.”

“Nothing’s been confirmed. The Jedi and the Senate haven’t released any statements about the incident.”

“Not yet, but they went to the effort of finding and bringing Hardeen in.” Ben hums in consideration. “And then he broke out of prison with Moralo Eval and Cad Bane. Very curious.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That I don’t trust Dooku or anyone who works with him.” He grimaces and runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than what we’re seeing.”

“Well, you do have an exit strategy.”

Ben grins; so Ahnuuk had been able to track them to Naboo after all. “Well then, I expect that I’ll see you all soon.”

“Take care, Ben.” Vinnath terminates the call and he settles down to wait for the start of the ceremony.

 

* * *

 

As the sun is setting, he watches the procession of dignitaries through the scope of his rifle. At the sight of the Alderaanian Senator walking in next to the Naboo Senator, he sighs gustily. _That sodding senator_ , Ben thinks in exasperation. _Why does he keep showing up_ everywhere _there’s going to be trouble?_ He must be singularly the unluckiest person in the galaxy.

He watches as the group settles into the stands and purses his lips when he sees the Jedi stationed around the plaza. _Great, just what this Sith-forsaken operation needed._

He’s surprised to recognize one of them as being Master Qui-Gon Jinn and waits for the old bitterness to come. It doesn’t. That almost surprises him more. The Jedi looks older than Ben remembers; his hair’s completely gray now and he seems to hold himself more carefully. It's been years since he’d thought of him; he supposes that time really had dulled the pain after all.

He shifts his focus onto the other Jedi, and identifies him based on reports from the holonews: Master Mace Windu, one of the members of the High Council.

There’s a familiar togruta girl, too, standing by the seated Naboo Queen. She’s dressed in non-sparkling clothes this time, face serious and a pair of saber hilts holstered on her hips. _What is she doing here when her Master’s just been killed? Was Skywalker not her Master after all?_ _Or do the Jedi not allow time for mourning?_

He shakes the thoughts from his head; how the Jedi run their Order is of no concern to him. If she’s here, then she’s either training with Jinn or Windu now, or her new Master is somewhere in the vicinity as well. He purses his lips. _That’s three to four Jedi._ Three to four more than he had wanted to deal with.

A blue ray shield activates and forms a dome over the plaza. The Chancellor stands and makes his way to the podium at a gesture from Windu. He speaks briefly and then turns to observe the fireworks exploding in the sky.

In that moment, Derrown reaches through the ray shield and short circuits the generator, causing it to explode. On nearby platforms, people scream and start to scramble out of their seats and to the nearest exits. When the smoke clears on the main dais, Ben sees the Chancellor lying prone on the floor. _The explosion must have knocked him out_. He surveys the rest of the plaza quickly.

The Jedi apprentice is escorting the dignitaries, including Senator Organa, to the exit. _Good_.

Jinn runs and vaults over the railing with his lightsaber lit and slashing down at Derrown. Ben follows his movements, waiting for an opening to shoot. But there isn’t one, with the balustrades of the railing in the way. Derrown doesn’t seem to need the assistance in any case. He wraps his tentacles around the Jedi Master and shocks him into unconsciousness, then activates his jetpack and takes off to safety.

Ben shifts the rifle back to the center of the plaza and sees two guards crouching over the Chancellor. Windu directs them to a waiting aircar, then runs towards Jinn’s unmoving form on the stairs.

One of the guards places something on the Chancellor’s chest and a hologram of a Senate guard encases him. Then they tap something on their own chest and assume the visage of the Chancellor. The false Chancellor and the other guard limp over to the aircar. _That must be Embo and Twazzi._ The real Chancellor now disguised as a guard lies on the floor, unheeded in the flurry of activity as people continue to evacuate the premises.

“Hmm, clever,” Ben murmurs, impressed in spite of himself. For a group of hunters who have never worked together and for an operation with so many moving parts, the op is proceeding surprisingly smoothly.

There are a number of guards moving quickly around the plaza; Ben can’t tell which one could be Hardeen. No dioxis grenades have been set off yet so he’s either veering off the plan or he’s been instructed to wait until the rest of them had vacated the plaza before releasing it.

A neimoidian approaches the Chancellor-disguised-as-a-guard and starts to drag him to the loading bay. Ben frowns. Then Eval pulls up in an aircar and the neimoidian deposits the disguised Chancellor in the backseat, jumping in himself after. _So that’s what Bane’s role was._ Ben watches the aircar drive off until the rearlights are no longer visible.

 _Mission complete._ He feels none of the usual satisfaction of a successful mission, just relief that it’s over. There’s still a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach making him vaguely nauseous.

He breaks down the rifle and stores it in the case. He looks at the datapad he’d set down nearby. Bane will be sending the coordinates for the rendezvous point soon, he expects, but he’s reluctant to spend more time on Naboo than he absolutely has to, with Jedi around. They’ll be searching everywhere for the Chancellor and there’s no amount of credits Dooku could pay him that would be worth being found by them.

Decision made, he drops the datapad and crushes it under his heel. He deposits the remains in a compactor outside the tower. Then he heads for the nearest spaceport. He’ll get rid of the rifle on the way; he doesn’t trust that Dooku hadn’t installed some kind of tracking device on it.

 

* * *

 

The news breaks when they’re on Nigel III. It’s not the news he’s expecting to hear and it freezes him in place before the large holoprojector screen in the spaceport. Around him, a crowd of travelers also stand in shock, before a murmur starts up among them, rising quickly in volume.

He pushes through the crowd in a daze, mind racing as he considers and discards next steps. _Would they tell?_ Of the group, he’s only worked with Embo before and he’s fairly sure that the kyuzo hunter won’t betray his presence on Naboo. But the others? They’re an unknown quantity to him. _If the Jedi are involved—could they be compelled to speak? Maybe it won’t even matter if they want to bargain for lighter sentences or not. I can’t—it would be too dangerous to—and Dooku—Sithspit, was this his plan all along?_ His hands clench into fists at his side, one of them crinkling the handles of a plastic bag containing local nuts and dried fruits.

“Hello there, handsome,” a rodian pilot calls out, breaking into his thoughts. “Lookin’ for a ride?” She gives him a friendly leer.

Ben dredges up a grin, aware that it isn’t nearly as charming as he can usually make it. “Thank you, but I’m all set.”

She gives a good-natured shrug and goes back to tinkering with the door to her ship. “Suit yourself.”

He almost changes his mind and accepts, but then he catches sight of a familiar ship and sighs. It’s too late regardless. If the officials are looking for him, they would have seen him arrive with Ahnuuk already. Leaving with or without her wouldn’t make much difference.

“Hey Ben,” she greets when he steps inside the _Shadow_ , turning towards him with a cheerful smile. “Did’ya get the food? We’re all fueled up and ready to—” her smile drops and her brows furrow at his grim expression. “What’s happened?”

“Chancellor Palpatine was killed on Naboo.”


	5. Chapter 4 - Inquiry

“If you would, Master Windu, please tell us, from the beginning, how this entire incident unfolded,” Mas Amedda directs. The Vice Chair of the Senate sits at one end of the long rectangular table, hands folded before him, face blank and tone even.

On either side of him at the table are members of the Senate special inquiry committee—seven total besides Amedda, made up of representatives from the Deep Core, the Core Worlds, the Inner Rim, the Colonies, the Mid-Rim, the Expansion Region, and the Outer Rim. Organa, Amidala, and Tills are present, and it’s solely that that convinces Anakin that the Senate really does just want to understand what had happened, rather than lay blame at the Jedi’s feet.

Arrayed in seats at the periphery of the room are Masters Yoda and Qui-Gon, and Anakin himself.

Master Windu sits at the opposite end of the table, expression giving away none of the exasperation he must feel at being asked to recount the events immediately after the committee had already asked Master Yoda to do the same. “We received intelligence reports from our agents in the field that Count Dooku was plotting against the Chancellor,” he begins. “And that it would involve Moralo Eval. We devised a plan of our own, to infiltrate Eval’s inner circle so that when he and Dooku rendezvoused, we would know. We brought this to the Chancellor, and he approved of the plan.”

_{“An...intriguing plan, Master Jedi,” Chancellor Palpatine said, stroking his chin with a gleam in his eye. “I must commend the Council on their ingenuity. Do you think it will work?”_

_“With the right Jedi, we believe there is a fair probability of success,” Mace said._

_“Excellent! And have you any candidates?”_

_“A few.”_

_Palpatine nodded thoughtfully. “If I may, I would suggest that you restrict involvement to just members of the Jedi Council. We don’t want to risk details of it leaking out.”_

_Mace frowned. “Chancellor, with all due respect, we have several Knights and Masters who are trained in undercover work but are not on the Council. They would never compromise an operation by speaking of it casually.”_

_“Nevertheless, Master Windu, I would feel more comfortable knowing that only a select number of people knew about this.” Palpatine paced back to his desk and took a seat. “I’m sure you’ll understand that I have a vested interest in the success of this mission.” He arched an eyebrow up at Mace and Master Yoda, who shared a glance._

_“Keep it under advisement, we will,” Master Yoda said at last. They both bowed to the Chancellor and exited his office.}_

“Ultimately, the Council decided that Knight Skywalker would do the infiltration, instead of one of the members of the Council, as the Chancellor had requested.”

“Why was that?” Senator Tills asks.

“We felt that no one on the Council had the particular skillset necessary to pose convincingly as a bounty hunter. Master Vos was our first choice, but he was already on assignment elsewhere and this was a time-sensitive mission. Knight Skywalker has been known for his unorthodox methods, which we thought would be an asset on this operation. And he is the former Padawan of Master Jinn, who is a member of the Council.”

Amedda nods slowly. “Did you make the Chancellor aware of the change?”

“No. The Jedi are an independent organization; we manage our own missions. When the war started and the Jedi were tasked by the Senate to lead the army, the Chancellor asked to be kept informed of all of our missions as well as all of our deployments, in his role as Commander-in-Chief. We agreed.” Mace’s placid tone does not hint at the disgruntlement that’s been building among the Jedi Council about this oversight by the Chancellor.

Anakin sneaks a glance over at Qui-Gon, who he knows has been one of the more outspoken members on the topic. Given the outcome, the Jedi had been right to have reservations about the Chancellor’s request.

Amedda frowns. “So what happened next?”

“We found the bounty hunter Rako Hardeen and contacted him anonymously to put a hit on Skywalker. He needed to do something to get Moralo Eval’s attention.”

_{They were walking back from a rare evening out on Coruscant, making plans for their next deployment, when it happened. Qui-Gon’s minute twitch of an eye was Anakin’s only warning. He jerked and there was a sudden pain blossoming on his chest, just above his heart. He gasped and let himself collapse to the ground._

_Ahsoka screamed and dropped to her knees next to him. They’d warned her—it would have been impossible to hide it from her completely, since she and Anakin had an active training bond—but knowing about it and seeing it happen were two entirely different things, Anakin knew._

_“Ahsoka, get Anakin to the Temple. I’m going after the shooter.” Qui-Gon sounded terrified. Anakin wondered if it looked so bad that he was worried Anakin was critically injured for real._

_He coughed and grimaced. The stars in the sky were spinning. It made him dizzy and nauseous. His fingers felt cold and numb. His limbs were heavy. His vision was dimming. It certainly felt like he’d been critically injured. He had a sudden fear that he’d misjudged, that the bounty hunter really had hit something vital._

_“‘soka,” he gasped. He couldn’t_ breathe _. He couldn’t get enough air. His heart was pounding. “‘soka, where—” Where was he hit, he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t get the words out._

_Ahsoka shook her head, tears welling up. “I don’t know, Master! Just hold on, please.” Gripping one of his hands in one of hers, she fumbled out her comlink with her other and activated it. “We need emergency assistance. Master Skywalker’s been hit! Please, you have to hurry. His heart’s slowing down and he’s breathing hard—Master? Master!”_

_He couldn’t respond as the world around him went dark.}_

“It was a closer call than we wanted. Hardeen’s bolt nicked a major artery. We were able to repair the damage once Skywalker was brought to the Temple infirmary. When Hardeen was apprehended, we substituted Skywalker in his place before he was brought to the jail. His first objective was to make himself invaluable to Eval and to not let him out of his sight. We knew Eval was planning to break out soon. Skywalker successfully completed that objective and we had limited contact with him for several days until he arrived on Naboo with a team of bounty hunters who were planning to abduct the Chancellor on behalf of Count Dooku. None of them were given the complete details of the plan, so Skywalker could only provide us with limited information. During the ceremony, one of the hunters caused the shield generator to explode. The Chancellor was rendered unconscious in the explosion.”

_{“Take the Chancellor to safety!” Mace ordered the pair of guards who had come running to check on Chancellor Palpatine. He gestured at the empty speeder waiting by one of the entry points to the platform. The guards nodded and he turned and ran to where he’d last seen Qui-Gon collapse after being shocked by a parwan bounty hunter._

_As he leapt over the railing onto the stairs, a guard joined him. He raised his lightsaber in surprise but, “It’s me,” Hardeen’s voice said under the helmet._

_Mace nodded and deactivated his saber, hooking the hilt back onto his belt. “Qui-Gon, are you okay?” he asked, bending down. The other Jedi was already stirring, though he looked dazed._

_“I’m alright, Mace. Those tentacles really pack a punch.”_

_“Good,” Mace said, relief flooding through him._

_“Where’s the Chancellor?”_

_“He’s safe. Two guards are transporting him to safety.” He looked up through the balustrades of the railing and saw the speeder pulling away. The Chancellor was sitting in the backseat, looking awake and alert. The driver—Mace frowned. “That’s not a guard!”_

_Skywalker glanced up sharply and cursed. “That must have been one of the hunters in disguise.” He ran back up the stairs, igniting his lightsaber._

_“Go,” Qui-Gon said with a push at Mace’s arm where he was helping to support him. “I’ll follow when I can.”_

_Mace nodded and ran after Skywalker. The speeder had already pulled too far away for them to be able to jump for it, even with the Force. He looked around and spotted an unoccupied speeder across the platform. “Skywalker!” he called, and pointed at the speeder when the Knight turned. They both ran for the speeder and with an unspoken accord, Skywalker took the pilot’s seat; he was the better pilot, reckless though he was._

_They had nearly caught up to the hunter when Qui-Gon’s voice came over the comlink. “Wait. Eval just flew by in a speeder with Bane and the Chancellor.”_

_“What?” Skywalker demanded. “But we’re looking right at the Chancellor!”_

_“One of them’s a fake,” Mace deduced grimly. But which one? He climbed up over the windshield and onto the hood of the speeder._

_“Master Windu, what are you doing?”_

_“Pull in closer to them and hold steady,” Mace said. “I’m going to jump over into their car.”_

_“Oh, okay.” Skywalker grinned widely—Mace would have to speak with him later about how this was_ not _a sanctioned method of apprehending someone even though a Council member did it—and eked out one more burst of speed from their speeder._

_As they closed in on the speeder in front of them, Mace gathered himself and the Force, took one step, then two, and jumped. He soared through the air and landed neatly in the backseat next to the Chancellor. The bounty hunter—it was a male kyuzo—jerked in surprise and the speeder swerved. Mace braced himself on the backrest and held his hand out to Palpatine. “Chancellor! Are you okay?”_

_Palpatine stared up at him with wide eyes. Then his eyes narrowed and he kicked out at Mace._

_Mace stumbled back and fell over the side of the speeder. He just managed to close his hands over the edge of the door. He looked down, past his dangling feet, at the ground far, far, below them._ Alright, so this is the fake Chancellor, _he thought to himself sardonically._

_Said fake Chancellor peered over the edge of the speeder at him. There was a flicker over his face and then the illusion shattered; Mace found himself looking at a snarling female frenk._

_The speeder jolted. Mace and the frenk hunter looked behind them. Skywalker—now looking like Hardeen instead of a Naboo guard—was preparing to ram them again._

_“Hardeen, what are you—” the frenk hunter shouted, then she cut herself off when she glanced back down at Mace. She narrowed her eyes back at Skywalker. “Traitor! Were you always working with the Jedi? Or are you switching sides now?”_

_Skywalker didn’t answer. He just crashed their speeders together hard enough to lock them together. Then he got up from the pilot’s seat and jumped over, whipping out his lightsaber and igniting it. The frenk bounty hunter froze as the tip of his blue blade came to a rest just under her chin._

_Mace pulled himself up and back into the speeder._

_“Turn  the speeder around, if you please, Embo,” Skywalker said in the deeper voice of Rako Hardeen. The kyuzo grunted and did as he was told._

_“Qui-Gon,” Mace said into his comlink, “we have two of the bounty hunters. One of them was masquerading as the Chancellor.”_

_“Okay. One of the guards just arrived with a speeder. We’ll go after Eval and Bane. I’ll send you the coordinates if we find them.”_

_“We’ll circle back to the plaza and join you in the search as soon as we hand over custody to the Naboo security force. Hopefully we’re not too late.”}_

“We had some difficulty locating where Eval and Bane had taken the Chancellor. They had a significant head start on Qui-Gon, who was delayed because there weren’t any remaining speeders at the plaza. In fact, we only found them because there was a disturbance in the Force and we went to the location it was originating from, thinking that Count Dooku was the source. And he was. But not by himself.”

_{Anakin and Mace pulled up to the clearing just as Qui-Gon and the Naboo security did. They jumped out of their speeders and froze at the sight before them: Dooku, with his red lightsaber lit and held defensively in front of him to deflect the black lightning that was shooting out of Palpatine’s fingers. There were scorch marks and blaster burns on the ground and the trunks of the trees surrounding the clearing. Eval and Bane lay unconscious against some trees where they must have been thrown back. Their clothes were smoking._

_Dooku saw them first. “Do you see, Qui-Gon?” he called out stridently. “_ This _is what I was referring to, when I told you that the Sith had control of the Senate. The Republic is corrupt!”_

_Palpatine turned his head towards them and there was such a macabre snarl of rage on his face that Anakin thought for a moment that this one must be an impostor too._

_Dooku took the momentary distraction to direct the black lightning into a tree and then he turned and swiftly retreated, cape billowing behind him._

_Qui-Gon stepped forward, as if to go after him, but Mace threw a hand out. “No,” he said, eyes never leaving. “We’ll take care of him later. Palpatine is the greater threat.”_

_“Come now, Master Jedi,” Palpatine said, words dripping saccharine sweetness. His expression took on his usual mild-mannered smile. He crossed his arms, slipping his hands inside his sleeves, and straightened up. There was a small singed circle on his right shoulder, shaped like a blaster bolt. “I was simply defending myself. You wouldn’t attack an unarmed old man, would you?”_

_“You’re a Sith,” Mace said, voice hard. He ignited his lightsaber and held it in the ready position. On either side of him, Anakin and Qui-Gon spread out to flank the Chancellor, igniting their sabers as well. “Surrender yourself to the authority of the Jedi.”_

_Palpatine watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed. Then his lips quirked up. “No.” He withdrew his hand from inside his sleeve and in his grip was a lightsaber hilt. He lit it and waves of darkness seemed to press down on them as a red laser beam formed._

_Anakin braced himself and charged forward with a yell.}_

“He was powerful. And well trained in lightsaber combat. He held the three of us off until the Royal Naboo Security Forces arrived. With their assistance, we were able to overwhelm and defeat the former Chancellor. Knight Skywalker struck the killing blow.”

That isn’t true. It had taken both of them. But Mace insists that his blow was the one they could be certain killed the Sith.

The members of the committee look over at him in admiration; Anakin feels a mix of pride and embarrassment at the attention. Mace hasn’t mentioned Palpatine’s attempts to sway him to his side, telling him that the Jedi were the ones who were corrupt, that they were no better than the Sith themselves by pulling such a manipulative stunt as having him fake his death and lie to the public in the midst of an intergalactic war. He had said that the Jedi were using him and that he was more powerful than any of them could ever be and that they were scared to let him achieve his full potential. Anakin’s anger had gotten out of his control and for a moment, he _had_ felt more powerful than he ever did before.

_{Anakin stumbled back, shocked by the amount of Force that he’d called to him._

_Palpatine’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that’s it. Use your anger. You feel it, don’t you? Power.”_

_“Skywalker!” Mace called out, slashing his blade down towards Palpatine. “Remember your training!”_

_Anakin blinked and came back to the present. Right. His training. He was a Jedi. He breathed in and centered himself._

_Mace had Palpatine’s full attention, purple blade moving so fast it looked like he was wielding a dozen of them._

_Qui-Gon approached from the side, limping just a little but expression determined and grip steady on his lightsaber hilt._

_Palpatine split his attention to fire off a bolt of lightning at Qui-Gon and Mace and Anakin struck simultaneously, one low and the other high._

_There was a moment of stillness and then Palpatine collapsed, torso separating from his legs and head rolling away.}_

“We learned our lesson with Darth Maul. We burned the body before we left Naboo, to ensure that he would not be able to return through any dark arts.”

“I wish we could have gotten some answers from him before you killed him,” Amidala says. She looks shaken and Anakin doesn’t blame her; Palpatine had been a mentor to her since she had been queen of Naboo.

“We have questions and concerns as well but it was impossible.”

Amidala nods. “I just can’t believe no one suspected his true nature.”

“The Sith are well versed in staying in the shadows. It’s how they’ve survived all this time. That they’re revealing themselves now is...troubling,” Mace says.

“Well, the Loyalist Committee _have_ been concerned about the Chancellor’s increasing political power,” Organa says. “But he was always very convincing and reasonable in his arguments. I suppose that was how he was able to deceive us for so long.”

Amedda looks at him sharply but says nothing in response as Amidala hums in agreement. He clears his throat. “Let us proceed to the next testimonial. Knight Anakin Skywalker, if you would please take Master Windu’s place at the table.”

Anakin withholds a sigh as he stands up. He hates politics.


	6. Chapter 5 - A Favor

Anakin slips into the Senate chamber and leans against the wall next to his former Master.

“You made it,” Qui-Gon says quietly. Centered in the room is a large holographic display showing the profile images of four Senators. Under each one is a number, rising at different rates as Senators enter their votes in their individual pods. The room echoes with their low murmurs as they confer with their advisors.

Anakin nods shortly. “We just landed.”

“How are you?”

Anakin shrugs one shoulder. “Tired.”

‘Tired’ is an understatement. ‘Mind-numbingly exhausted’ would be more accurate. The Separatists had taken advantage of the upheaval caused by the revelation of Palpatine’s true nature and subsequent death to increase their attacks. They had a seemingly endless supply of droids. The Jedi, however, have had to pull some of the members of the Council back to Coruscant for the Senate’s emergency election of a new Chancellor, leaving Anakin and some of the other Knights and Masters to assume command of additional regiments to cover their territories.

“The past couple of weeks have just been one big blur of prepping for battles and fighting battles. If it wasn’t for the Force, I think I would have passed out at some point and been shot dead by a droid.” He makes a morbid joke of it, but he and Qui-Gon know it’s a real possibility. They’ve lost too many Jedi on the field already, and not all of them at the hands of Dooku’s Force-wielding assassins. The Force is powerful but it doesn’t make them invincible against overwhelming numbers.

“We’ll be back on the field soon,” Qui-Gon says.

That will help but not as much as finding a way to end this war quickly. Anakin bites back the words, though; they’ve had enough debates over their philosophical differences about this war over the years.

He rubs his eyes instead and looks at the numbers on the holographic display, feeling a thread of satisfaction weave through him. “It looks like Organa’s ahead.”

“Yes. I expect they’ll make the announcement shortly.” Qui-Gon straightens up and pushes away from the wall. “We need to gather intelligence on Dooku, find out what he’s up to.”

“You mean besides trying to wear us down and kill us with his horde of droids?” Anakin asks drily. “You don’t think that’s what he’s doing?”

“I don’t think that’s _all_ that he’s doing,” Qui-Gon corrects. “That’s him being opportunistic. He’s planning something else. Something we can’t see.” He clasps Anakin on the shoulder. “I’m going to speak with Dex. We haven’t gotten very far with legitimate sources. You should get some rest. You and Ahsoka are due for some leave.”

Anakin nods. Dex runs a diner on the lower levels of Coruscant and sells information on the side; the food is always cheap and hearty and the information expensive but reliable. He glances back at the screen showing the final votes for each candidate for Chancellor. “I’ll stay and watch the end of this, then report in to the Council.”

“Alright. Comm me if anything comes up.”

He gives his former Master a hopeful grin. “I don’t suppose you’ll bring back some food from Dex for me?” He widens his eyes in his most pitiful look.

“Brat,” Qui-Gon says fondly with a shake of his head.  Then he turns and walks away.

“Is that a no?” Anakin asks after him. Qui-Gon’s only response is a huff of laughter. Anakin turns his attention back to the central pod, where Amedda is preparing to announce the results of the election, which are already displayed on the screen. He absently reaches into the pocket of his robes and rubs his fingers over the disposable comlink he’d used as Hardeen.

 

* * *

 

“Anakin Skywalker,” Ben’s hologram greets when the call connects. He looks like he’s seated comfortably in a lounge, holding a drink in one hand. “I was wondering when you’d contact me. Shall I assume that Republic security is going to be knocking on my door soon?”

“You don’t seem surprised that it’s me calling, instead of Hardeen,” Anakin gets out around the tightness in his chest. Even in miniature monochromatic blue, Ben looks good. He’d forgotten just how magnetic the bounty hunter is.

“I watch the news. You went in undercover as a bounty hunter to foil a Separatist plot against the Chancellor. The only two hunters from that operation not in custody or dead right now are me and Hardeen. And I know it wasn’t me that you were masquerading as.”

“Right,” Anakin says, taken a little aback. “Of course.” Ben’s raised eyebrows convey worlds of meaning on his opinion of Anakin’s eloquence. He flushes. “Um, anyway. No, there shouldn’t be any police looking for you. Not for that, at least.”

“Oh?” He sounds interested now.

Anakin licks his lips. “Well, they wouldn’t be...because they don’t know that you were there.”

“Really.” His eyes narrow.

“Yeah,” Anakin says lowly, looking around the alley to make sure there weren’t any cameras around. He’d ducked out of the Temple after his debriefing with the Council and made his way to a quieter part of the city to make this call. He feels his neck go hot, wondering what Ben is thinking about Anakin not turning him in. Anakin himself doesn’t know why he hadn’t done so. “There wasn’t any sign of a sniper on the scene and even your personal rifle wasn’t at the warehouse where we were setting up, so, you know….”

“I see. So what is this call about then?” Ben tenses up and sounds suspicious, which throws him off. Anakin doesn’t know how he had expected the hunter to react to hearing from him, but this wasn’t it.

“I wanted to ask you for a favor,” he says, feeling flustered. “We need information.”

To his surprise, Ben chuckles and relaxes back into his seat. “Oh, I see now. Very mercenary of you, Jedi.” Anakin wishes he would stop being so cryptic and explain because he feels like the conversation took a sudden detour that he’s not following. “And what is it that you need information on?”

“We need to know what the Separatists are up to, especially Count Dooku. And anyone he might have as his assassin or second-in-command.”

Ben looks thoughtful. “And when would you need this information?”

“As soon as possible. Before the swearing-in of the new Chancellor would be best.”

“If I do this, it will fulfill my debt to you.” Ben says it more like a statement of a condition, rather than a question. Still, Anakin is taken aback.

“Debt? What debt?”

Ben rolls his eyes. “For keeping my involvement in that fiasco a secret.” He looks at Anakin like he’s wondering where Anakin had been for the beginning of the call, and then the look starts to turn suspicious again and Anakin rushes to say something.

“Right! Right, yeah, that. Yes, we’ll be even.”

“Good. I’ll send you the coordinates for a cantina on Tatooine. Meet me there in three weeks.”

“You’re not going to tell me to come alone?” Anakin jokes.

“Skywalker, if you would really come alone for a rendezvous with someone you know nothing about, you’re not half as clever as I thought you were.”

 _Ben thinks I’m clever?_ Anakin can feel himself blushing again and is thankful that Ahsoka isn’t with him right now. She’d tease him to death over this.

“Besides, _I_ certainly won’t be coming alone.”

Anakin feels suddenly disappointed. Then he gives himself a mental kick. This is a business meeting, not a lovers’ tryst. Of course Ben isn’t going to meet him alone. What had he been expecting? He keeps his tone light and neutral as he says, “Of course not.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Ben says and then his image blinks out.

Seconds later, Anakin’s comlink pings with a message from Ben: a set of numbers indicating the location of the meeting. Tatooine, Anakin muses. He’d only been there once, for that mission to rescue Jabba’s son, and all he remembers of it is that there’s sand everywhere and it’s the most annoying thing to try to get rid of. He and Ahsoka had probably brought back a liter of the stuff each just in their clothes and boots.

He shakes his head and goes to tell his Padawan that they’ll be spending part of their leave on the desert planet.

 

* * *

 

The cantina is in Mos Eisley, one of Tatooine’s spaceports, and it’s called simply “Chalmun’s.” The bouncer at the door snaps at them in a mix of Huttese and Basic, pointing emphatically at a cordoned off area where a group of droids are resting. He only calms down when Anakin rests a hand on R2’s dome and says with a dirty look at the bouncer, “Hey buddy, it sounds like this is one of those cantinas that doesn’t allow droids. You mind standing guard out here while ‘soka and I go inside?”

R2 beeps back an unaffected affirmative and rolls over to join the other droids, whistling greetings all around.

There’s a twi’lek with pale purple skin leaning against the wall, idly sharpening a small blade. She glances up at them with a bored expression before sliding her eyes away and surveying the rest of the street.

It’s only early evening by Tatooine’s time but the inside of the cantina is already packed full of patrons. There’s a bar in the middle of the room, groupings of tables and chairs in the open area, and large arched openings lining the perimeter that lead to enclosed alcoves with booths and tables for those who want more privacy.

Anakin grimaces and pushes his way through the crowd, Ahsoka by his side. He pulls the hood of his cloak further down over his face and gestures for Ahsoka to do the same. They make a slow circuit of the room, peering into the shadowed alcoves for Ben. Most of them are filled with members of a different species, just about all of whom are more than halfway to being drunk. There’s a band playing in the corner of the cantina, the jaunty, uplifting notes barely audible over the raucous laughter and shouted conversations taking place all around them.

He finally spots a familiar face sitting at the outside edge of a semicircular booth inside one of the alcoves. It’s quieter in this part of the cantina, fewer patrons loitering around; some of the tables are even empty. Anakin only has a moment to wonder why before the crowd shifts and he catches sight of a massive creature with dark grey fur and glowing yellow eyes sitting on its haunches before the arched entry. He freezes where he stands and Ahsoka runs into him.

“Master,” she whispers, peering around him with a gasp, “what in the Force is _that_?”

“I don’t know, Snips.” But Ben has seen them; he sits up expectantly. Anakin inches forward, eyeing the creature warily. The creature watches him in return, pointed ears twitching and upper lip pulling back to reveal very large teeth. Even sitting down, it comes up to Anakin’s hip.

“Skywalker, you made it,” Ben greets calmly, as if there isn’t a likely-murderous beast sitting a few feet away from him.

“Ben. What in Sith hells is that thing?”

Someone snorts and Anakin flicks his eyes over to see a female twi’lek on Ben’s other side. Her dark blue skin lets her nearly blend into the shadows.

“Ah, this is Marrok. He’s an anooba. He’s Embo’s pet; I’m just helping to watch him until Embo’s released from prison. I find that he’s quite good at ensuring that we have privacy.” Ben stretches over and casually scratches the creature behind the ears. Marrok leans into it with a chuff, slitting his eyes and looking somehow smugly pleased.

Anakin takes the opportunity to quickly usher Ahsoka inside the alcove and into the booth and then slide in himself.

“Nice ponchos,” Ben says with a smirk, sitting back in the booth.

Anakin flushes and glances down at the dark brown poncho he’d thrown over his usual Jedi robes; he pushes the hood back so that it no longer covers his eyes. Ahsoka had opted for a beige one and she leaves her hood pulled up over her montrals.

“Are those really all you need to disguise the Hero of the Republic?” Ben continues. He’s wearing a thinner grey version of his high-collared coat from Dooku’s operation, with a lightweight pale blue scarf wrapped a couple of times around his neck and tinted goggles resting on the top of his head. He looks as beautiful as Anakin had remembered.

Anakin hunches his shoulders, feeling embarrassed for some reason. It’s just another title that the media’s dubbed him with, one that he tries not to pay much mind to until he’s swarmed by interviewers. They do it less to Mace even though he had as much to do with taking down Palpatine, but Anakin thinks that’s because he’s perfected his narrow-eyed glare that just dares people to interrupt his very important activities with trivial matters so that he can verbally eviscerate them. Anakin...does not have such a glare. Or as important activities to interrupt when he’s not on the battlefield.

“Yeah, it’s fine. The hutts may be allies of the Republic for the war but they still don’t like us very much. I doubt they care about what happened with the former Chancellor or who I am.”

Ben cocks his head, looking thoughtful. He shrugs one shoulder. “Fair enough. And I presume this is your apprentice?”

“Ah, yes, sorry. Where are my manners?” Anakin coughs and feels the back of his neck flush. “Ahsoka Tano.”

Ben gives her a cordial nod and gestures to the twi’lek next to him. “Giz’ahan. One of my partners.” She just gives them a neutral look and stirs the drink in her hands, though she doesn’t drink from it.

“So,” Anakin says, trying for nonchalance, “how’ve you been?” He drums his fingers restlessly on the table surface, wishing he’d bought a drink at the bar before sitting down, just to have something to hold. He can feel Ahsoka looking at him incredulously and strives to ignore her.

Ben arches a brow at him. “Oh, you know. Busy. You?”

“Same,” he says with a jerky nod. “There’s a lot going on in the Senate, since the Chancellor, you know, uh….”

“Was revealed to be an evil, power-hungry man who was likely plotting to take over the universe?” Ben finishes.

“Yeah.” Anakin cringes inside. Why is he bringing this up? He’d spent the whole trip here trying to think of what to say to Ben when he finally saw him again and _this_ is what comes out?

“The news say he was a Sith. Is that true?” Ben asks. “I thought they had died out.”

Anakin nods jerkily. “Well, we didn’t ask him. But he was very powerful in the dark side of the Force, and he was well-trained in lightsaber combat. He shot lightning out of his hands. We went through his offices and apartment and found a Sith artifact. He may have had more, but if he did, he didn’t keep them on Coruscant. So he either was already a Sith or was training to be one. We’ve come across a few others and he was stronger than any of them, so we’re thinking he’s the Master.”

“A _few others_?” Ben asks, eyes wide. “There are more Sith running around out there?”

“At least two. Well, two who we’re fairly confident are Sith. There are a few other dark side users who are powerful but may or may not be Sith,” Anakin says, wondering if he should tell Ben that Dooku is one of those. It isn’t common knowledge and Ahsoka’s already giving him askance looks at how much he’s telling Ben. He reminds himself that he doesn’t actually know Ben, and that Ben could very well be trying to collect information to sell to someone else.

“ _Kriff_ ,” Ben curses with feeling. He looks shaken. Anakin wonders what he’s heard about Sith. They feature heavily as villains and monsters in the bedtime tales that the crechemasters tell initiates but he doubts that non-Jedi have the same stories.

“You don’t need to worry,” Anakin says. “The Jedi will take care of them. That’s what we do. It’s our specialty.” He makes a face, to try to lighten the mood. “All the fame and media attention, though? So not our specialty.”

Ben smiles a little and though it looks strained, Anakin also thinks it looks beautiful. He resolves to try to make him smile again. “Not comfortable in the spotlight?”

Anakin grimaces. “Well, half the Republic are falling over themselves thanking us for finding out about Palpatine and ‘saving’ them from him. The other half are demanding to know why we didn’t figure it out sooner. And then there’s a portion who think it’s all a Jedi conspiracy to seize power for ourselves.”

Ben quirks his lip up with a hint of amusement and Anakin scowls.

“I know, I know, my numbers are off. But I’m too tired to care right now.” He runs a hand through his hair. “We’ve even got people coming to the Temple with offerings and gifts. Gifts! We’re Jedi. We can’t accept those. But when we told them that they looked so upset and then they refused to leave without doing something to show their gratitude and we can’t have people camped out in the great hall. So our quartermaster came up with this idea of accepting the gifts as donations to local charities. And now we have piles of stuff all over the great hall that the initiates are sorting through when they’re not in classes.”

“Sounds terribly inconvenient.”

“It is!” Anakin tells Ben’s sparkling eyes. He can feel the tension draining out of his shoulders as he lets himself settle into what feels like the first conversation he’s had with someone in weeks that wasn’t about battle strategy or the war. “People can trip over those if they’re not careful. I’ve only been back in the Temple for two weeks and I’ve nearly tripped over them several times myself.” He realizes how that sounds and hurries to say, “Not that I’m clumsy or anything. There’s just a lot of stuff everywhere. It’s a hazard.”

“‘No running in the Temple’,” Ben quips and Anakin nearly sighs in relief that he’s not laughing at him.

“We’ve always had that rule. No one really follows it. Only now there are obstacles that people have to run around. Which, to be honest, isn’t much of a deterrent for...any of us. I think that the younglings in particular like the challenge.”

“It’ll be good for their reflexes.”

“Yeah, but I’m just waiting for the day one of them runs into one of the piles and scatters everything across the hall.” He simultaneously wants to be there to see Mace’s eyebrow twitch and wants to be as far away as possible to avoid the fallout. He definitely doesn’t want to be the cause of that incident. “The visitors, at least, seem to be really charmed by them. We keep getting comments about how they’re so polite and well-behaved. And the elders have taken to sitting in the hall all day. Supposedly to supervise the younglings but I think they really just like talking to the visitors and being able to tell them about the Force and the Order. They keep saying how in the ‘good old days’ the Temple used to get visitors all the time and how they’ve missed those days.” They also keep muttering about how the Jedi aren’t supposed to be soldiers in an army but there isn’t anything anyone can do about that now. “And before you get any bright ideas," he warns, just in case, "every package and visitor is screened heavily before they’re allowed to set foot in the Temple.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Ben says. Giz’ahan idly taps a finger on the table and Ben’s eyes slide over to look at something over Anakin’s shoulder, at the back of the cantina. The atmosphere in their alcove turns serious.

Anakin resists the urge to turn and see what he’s looking at. There had been a large alcove there, he recalls, with a richly dressed trandoshan and two zygerrians seated at a large round table and a group of twi’leks, humans, and rodians kneeling on the floor around them. They ranged in age from children to young adults and radiated despair. He suspects that they’re slaves and his fingers itch to grab his lightsaber and kill their owners. Or at least _aggressively_ persuade them to free them. His light mood from earlier dissipates.

Ben extracts a small data chip from an interior pocket and slides it across the table. “The information you requested.”

Anakin takes it with a nod. “Thanks for doing this. I hope you didn’t have to go through too much trouble.”

Ben furrows his brows at him and looks bemused. “I owed you a favor. And no, we had no trouble with it. We have a number of information retrieval specialists in the House.”

“House Olgkru?” Anakin asks, to confirm.

“You’ve done your research.” Ben sits back, looking more relaxed now that he’s handed the chip over to Anakin. He takes a sip of his drink—something that’s bright green and sizzles. He and Giz’ahan make no move to leave, which Anakin decides not to question. His own seat faces the cantina’s entrance and he keeps an eye on it, trusting that R2 will come let them know if there’s any trouble outside.

“I tried,” Anakin admits with a soft huff. “There’s not a lot of information about you. A lot of suspected hits but none confirmed.”

“It’s a lot easier to keep working when the Republic police isn’t looking for you,” Ben says, wiggling his gloved fingers. “The people who need to know, know. The ones who don’t, don’t. We’re not in the habit of boasting, as some others do.”

Anakin nods. He thinks about sending Ahsoka to the bar for drinks but this doesn’t seem like the best place to separate. So he tries to ignore her probably judgmental look, licks his lips and says, “So I know you said you don’t mix business with pleasure, but...our business is done now. And I’m not a bounty hunter….” He keeps his gaze steady on Ben’s, praying that the other man will understand what he’s asking. He can feel Ahsoka’s exasperation through their bond and fights down a blush.

Ben tilts his head and his eyes roam over Anakin’s face. Anakin’s heart starts to race under the scrutiny. Ben doesn’t look disinterested.

But the hunter shakes his head—regretfully, Anakin would like to think. “I don’t get involved with Jedi at all.”

Anakin swallows. “At all? What do you mean?”

“I mean that I stay out of Jedi business, I endeavor to avoid Jedi, and I never take a job that involves members of the Order in any way, either as targets or as clients.”

“But—”

“This was an exception, because I owed you a favor and I knew you would call to collect at some point if I didn’t do this.”

“Oh.” Anakin’s heart sinks. He can’t help feeling hurt, though he doesn’t know why. It’s clear that this isn’t a personal grudge Ben has against him. What’s the Jedi done to him, though, that he goes out of his way to avoid them? “But I wouldn’t have pushed it, if you didn’t want to work with us. You could have just said.”

Ben frowns. “You clearly haven’t spent much time around bounty hunters. It’s a wonder you pulled off being Hardeen at all.”

Anakin opens his mouth to protest, because what does _that_ mean? But just then, the cantina door opens and the purple-skinned twi’lek they’d seen earlier walks inside. She slips through the crowd purposefully, clearly making her way to their table. Ben looks over to see what’s caught his attention and straightens up in his seat.

“Hondo Ohnaka’s here,” the twi’lek says shortly as soon as she enters their alcove.

Ben groans and mutters “wonderful” just as Anakin moans “oh, no.”

“You know him?” they ask each other at the same time.

Ben chuckles ruefully. “Unfortunately. We’ve had a couple of run-ins.”

“Same,” Anakin says, though he’s not sure he would classify that time he’d been drugged and held for ransom alongside Dooku as a simple ‘run-in.’ No need to share that embarrassing story with the bounty hunters, though.

“Well?” Ben asks the twi’lek.

She shares a thoughtful look with Giz’ahan and their lekku shift in silent communication for a moment before she nods. “We can work with that.”

“It’s your call,” Ben says easily. At Giz’ahan’s tap on his shoulder, he stands up. She slides out and stretches her arms over her head gracefully.

“See you on the other side, nerra,” Giz’ahan says. She squeezes Ben’s shoulder and gives him a kiss on the cheek, then saunters off. The other twi’lek does the same and follows. They quickly disappear into the crowd. Marrok watches them with interest but shows no sign of going after them; Anakin holds back a sigh.

Ben takes his seat again. “Will Hondo recognize you?”

Anakin shrugs. “Probably.”

“Cover your face and sit further in the shadows, then. We don’t want him wondering what you’re doing on Tatooine.”

He and Ahsoka have just scooted inward when the door slams open, startling the cantina patrons into silence. “Good evening, lovely peoples of Tatooine!” an unfortunately familiar voice announces grandly. “I, Hondo Ohnaka, have arrived.” The weequay pirate stands still like he’s posing for pictures, monkey-lizard perched on one shoulder. Behind him, his pirate crew spills into the cantina, already drunk and rowdy and completely ignoring their leader’s dramatic entrance.

The rest of the cantina turn away from the pirates and resume their own conversations. Hondo crosses his arms over his chest and looks very dissatisfied.

Anakin can’t help a snicker.

Ben flashes him a mischievous grin. “Stay hidden,” he tells them. Then he stands and walks to the entrance of the alcove. Marrok stands eagerly. “No killing,” he tells the creature.

The two of them step out and almost immediately, Hondo’s spotted them and is calling out, “Ben! Ben, my dear friend! What brings you to this corner of the galaxy?”

“Oh, you know,” Ben says casually, “the usual. Got thirsty, fancied a drink, missed the charming and lovely Ackmena here.” Anakin watches him turn and wink at the bartender who just rolls her eyes.

“Well, come! Have a drink with me at the bar.” Hondo makes a sweeping gesture and his pet takes that opportunity to scurry along his arm and make to jump onto Ben’s shoulder, no doubt to try to steal whatever valuables the hunter has on him. Marrok leaps up and snaps at it, though, and it shrieks and scrambles away to Hondo’s far side. It chitters madly and grabs onto Hondo’s collar tightly.

“Serves it right,” Ahsoka mutters. “I almost wish that beast really had gotten it.”

“Ben! Control your pet!” Hondo says. He looks upset but like everything Hondo does, it comes across as exaggerated playacting. Anakin can’t tell if he means it this time.

He can’t see Ben’s expression but his voice sounds droll when he says, “I don’t know, I quite like Marrok the way he is.” As if he could understand him, the anooba turns his face up towards Ben and drops his jaw in what must be his equivalent of a grin. Ben runs a hand through the tufts of fur lining his back. His other hand, Anakin sees, is fiddling with something. He’s too far away to make out any details besides that it’s black and rectangular.

There’s a sudden ruckus near the door, startled and angry shouts that start at the back and spread out. Anakin cranes his neck but all he sees is the crowd of pirates ebbing and surging like a wave. Then he sees one pirate pull back and throw a punch at a dug, who drops their drink and turns to clobber them in return. The pair of them crash into some other pirates who shove them away.

Anakin watches with some amazement as the fighting quickly spreads throughout the cantina. He catches sight of the two twi’leks who had been with Ben slipping away from the group of pirates and heading deeper into the cantina. There are bright flashes of light followed by yelps of pain that mark their passage.

Then he sees Ben toss up the thing he’d been fiddling with. It separates in the air into two shapes and they aren’t rectangular at all. The tops have a slight curve and the bottom is lined with four metal loops. Almost quicker than Anakin could see, Ben catches them and slips his fingers through the loops, closes his hands into fists, and throws a punch at an unsuspecting pirate. It doesn’t look like a hard hit but the pirate goes flying across a table and slamming into the wall. The occupants of the now upended table get up angrily and wade into the melee.

Hondo gapes at Ben in outrage and flails his arms. “What are you doing!”

“Sorry, Hondo. Nothing personal,” Ben calls back cheerfully before he hunches down and lands a punch on Hondo’s midsection that sends him crashing through his own crew. Ben ducks into the crowd after him and Anakin quickly loses sight of him—he’s _fast—_ but he’s pretty sure he can follow his path by the beings yelping and being thrown into tables, chairs, and the walls. He seems to be indiscriminately aiming for pirates and regular patrons.

“He’s human, right? What in the Force is he fighting with?” Ahsoka asks incredulously. “Shouldn’t we stop them?”

“Vibroknucklers,” Anakin says distractedly. “They must be, with the amount of force they’re hitting with. And I don’t know. I mean, he looks human, but....” He strains to see Ben’s ginger hair among the drunken combatants but to no avail. He groans in frustration, thinks about getting up and joining the fight himself as Ahsoka had suggested. But Ben had been right, they can’t afford to be recognized here and Hondo’s crew _would_ recognize them.

“You’ve got it bad, Master,” Ahsoka says, a little gleefully.

“Don’t even start, Snips.”

It all ends surprisingly quickly, with the bouncer coming in from the front door and a Wookie coming in from the back offices—the cantina’s owner, Anakin guesses—to work their way through the crowd, separating people and telling them to either calm down or leave. Hondo’s gang are pointedly asked to leave and they grudgingly do, nursing various aches and bruises. Many of the other patrons drift away too, and the cantina starts looking much emptier than when they had first entered. A few beings lay sprawled on the floor or slumped in chairs, groaning in pain and applying pressure to wounds. The bartender moves among them, offering assistance. The band strikes up a tune and Anakin hadn’t even realized they’d stopped playing until now.

Despite his hopes, Ben and his twi’lek partners don’t return to the table. They don’t, in fact, seem to be anywhere in the cantina at all, from what Anakin can see.

A group stops hesitantly at the archway to their alcove. He recognizes them from the large alcove in the back of the cantina, only now their despair is significantly decreased and a sense of hope seems to be tentatively building.

“Excuse me,” one of the twi’leki males says. “They said you could help us? Please, we just want passage into Republic space.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka answers instantly.

“Who told you that?” Anakin asks, though he suspects that he knows.

But, “The Twin Suns,” is what one of the twi’leki females says. Her voice sounds almost reverent. Anakin just feels confused and a little disappointed. Part of him had thought—hoped—it’d be Ben. _Maybe the twi’leks he was with?_

As they’re leaving, Anakin looks over into the large alcove at the back but it’s empty. A human boy tugs at his arm and directs his gaze to where the three slave owners who had been sitting at the table are now laying unmoving on the floor near the bar in a spreading pool of blood. The fighting must have interrupted whatever they were doing and drawn them out. He wonders if they had been killed by drunk cantina patrons or by these Twin Suns.


	7. Chapter 6 - Bounty on the Chancellor (of a different kind)

He’s having a quiet evening drink and looking out the windows at Anstares VI’s rings when his comm pings with an incoming call. ‘Jax’ flashes across the screen and he raises his brows to himself in silent surprise before he accepts the call.

“You know, when I gave you this number, I didn’t quite believe you would ever use it,” he tells the blue holographic image of the soon-to-be-former Senator from Alderaan. He’s wearing one of his usual elaborate robes; he must have just left a Senate session.

The Senator chuckles. “I know. But I wanted to share the news with you myself. I’ve been elected Chancellor of the Republic.”

“You’re too late. I’ve already heard about that on the holonews.” Whatever had the other man been thinking, Ben wants to ask but doesn’t. It’s not his business if he wants to paint a bigger target on his back.

“Alas,” the Senator says in mock-disappointment. He brightens up. “Well, did you know that being Chancellor comes with its fair share of death threats? More than fair, if I do say so myself. There’s one, for example, saying that I’m not going to survive even the swearing-in ceremony in two weeks.”

Ben hums but he pulls out his datapad and checks the Bounty Hunter Guild’s bulletin. “It must be an internal job. There are no bounties on you. Yet.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve got the Jedi around to protect me.”

“Mm-hmm. They make excellent bodyguards,” he agrees absently. He pulls up a blank bounty application and fills it in, selects a reward amount, and sends to it to the Queen of Alderaan to certify and sign.

“They do,” Bail says just as a notification pops up on his screen that the bounty’s been signed and posted. He clicks to assign his House to it and its status changes from ‘Open’ to ‘Active’. “They’re going to be escorting me everywhere, in shifts, until the ceremony ends. So there won’t be any need to worry.”

“Of course not,” Ben agrees, flicking the datapad off and returning it to the front pocket of his coat.

“No, I’m in good hands. Actually, the reason I called was to invite you to the ceremony, strictly as a guest. Breha insists.”

“She does, does she?”

“She thought that you’d like to see for yourself that all of your past efforts at keeping me alive have not been in vain.” The Senator smiles widely at him.

“Tell him to bring his best gun!” Breha’s lyrical voice calls out from off-camera. “Just in case.”

“What she said,” Bail says wryly.

Ben snorts. “Well, tell her to rest assured. I’ve already got my ticket.”

“Wonderful. We’ll see you there.”

“Now Bail, you know you never see me until after the job’s done.”

“Who said anything about a job? I’m expecting to see you sitting front and center during my speech.” He says it lightly, with a quirk of his lips; he knows that Ben would never be out in the open like that.  His image winks out as the call disconnects.

“Was that the jax?” Koy’itar asks lowly as she sidles up to him with a drink of her own.

“Yes. His Queen wishes for me to attend the confirmation ceremony.”

“You’re going?”

Ben shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve already saved his life five times. Might as well make sure he keeps living so I can collect on the debt one day.”

“Mm. Must be nice, having royalty indebted to you.” Her eyes are gently teasing and her right lekku nudges his shoulder. “Do you want any company?”

“No, I should be fine. There’s going to be a lot of Jedi around. I plan to keep a low profile. Keep an eye out for any interesting jobs.”

“Of course,” she says easily. After a brief comfortable silence in which they both watch the stars and contemplate their own thoughts, she says, “You know, of all the creatures and beings you’ve befriended and adopted over the years, this one is by far the most benign and helpless. He truly is like one of those cute little furry domesticated creatures you’ve named him after.”

Ben bites back a laugh, because she’s right. “I know, numa. It shocks me, too.”

“That Jedi we met on Tatooine though? Very much fits your type.” She winks at him around the rim of her glass as she takes a sip.

“Giza told you?” Ben groans.

“Oh, yes.”

Ben resigns himself to endless teasing until the two of them accept that nothing is going to happen between him and Skywalker. He suddenly can’t wait until he departs for Coruscant. He ignores the part of his brain that tells him that the chances of running into Skywalker there are quite high.

 

* * *

 

Coruscant is as chaotic and bustling as he remembers it. He gives himself a moment to stand on the roof of an office building and watch the multi-level lanes of air traffic winding around the spires of glass and chrome structures. He used to think that he’d never want to leave the city-planet but now that he’s been away for a few years, he’s found that he actually hasn’t really missed it. He shakes his head at himself and starts to make his way via jetpack to the Senate apartment building. He makes a conscious effort to ignore the Jedi Temple sitting in its own pocket of relative peace and quiet to his distant right.

It’s disturbingly easy to gain access to the Organas’ apartment. He lands on their balcony, where a pair of clone troopers in red-striped armor are standing guard. They at least react quickly enough to train their blasters on him as soon as he’s in sight. He assumes they’ve alerted additional troopers inside the apartment to have Breha moved to a secured room.

He slides his goggles up onto the top of his head, holds both hands out to show that he’s unarmed, and quirks a smile at the troopers. It’s his wry smile, a twist of his lips, a what-can-you-do grin. It’s the smile that used to work on Jango, every time, without fail. He wonders if it’ll work on these clones of his.

“The Queen is expecting me,” he says. He can’t tell what’s going on under the helmets but neither trooper shifts position or stance at all; they’re well-trained.

Moments later, Breha appears at the glass door behind the troopers and slides it open. “Ben!” she greets with a bright smile. “Come in, come in.”

The troopers move just enough that he can walk in between them. He has no doubt they’re scanning him for weapons and cataloging every single one. “I do hope there was more of a screening process than just me smiling and looking harmless.”

“Oh Ben.” Breha’s smile is fond as she shakes her head at him. She has strips of glittery fabric braided into her brown hair which catch the light and reflect it in random patterns around the room as she moves. “You could never look harmless.”

 

* * *

 

“Breha?” Bail’s voice calls out just before the outer door to the apartment clicks shut. “I’m home.”

“In the office, dear!” Breha answers.

Bail appears shortly in the doorway, wearing a set of fitted dark blue robes. “Hello, love.” Then he pauses, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Ben and the captain of his personal guard standing over a holographic map of the Senate building and the surrounding blocks. “Captain Layla,” Bail greets cordially before cocking a brow quizzically at him. “Ben? I wasn’t expecting to see you until after tomorrow.”

Ben shrugs and smirks. “I’m meeting with my employer.”

“What?” Bail frowns in confusion and then he groans. “Breha. What did you do?”

“Ben?” a familiar voice asks from behind Bail. “That’s not—” Knight Skywalker appears over Bail’s shoulder and his blue eyes widen in surprise. Ben ignores the way his heart seems to have just skipped a beat. “Ben! What are you doing here?” Skywalker looks pleased for a moment and then suspicious.

“You know each other?” Bail asks.

Skywalker looks between Ben and Breha. “Employer? Queen Breha, did you put a _bounty_ on someone?”

“On me, probably,” Bail says in resignation.

There’s a flash of betrayal in Skywalker’s eyes and he moves quickly to stand between them and Bail, unlit lightsaber suddenly in his hand.

“I’m not going to kill him,” Ben says, annoyed. Does Skywalker think he’s stupid enough to do something like that in a room full of witnesses, with no cover?

“It’s a protection bounty,” Breha says.

“What?” Skywalker asks, not relaxing his defensive stance. “You put a protection bounty on your husband?”

“Not me,” she answers and tilts her head at Ben.

“ _You_ put a protection bounty on the Chancellor?” Skywalker's incredulity is charming even as it’s amusing.

Ben pulls up the bounty. “There’s a procedure for these types of things,” he explains.

“I just signed off on it and agreed to pay the reward,” Breha continues with a beatific smile.

“Reward? How much are you asking for?” Skywalker demands. Ben angles the projected image from his wrist comm so that Skywalker can see it clearly. He whistles when he sees the amount. “You know, I’m not very familiar with bounties, but shouldn’t the amount be higher? A hundred credits seems kind of a low value for the life of your husband.”

“That’s just the minimum amount required to post a bounty,” Ben tells him.

“We invited you to attend the ceremony as a guest, Ben, not so that you can work,” Bail says with a hint of exasperation.

“And you told me that there’s a threat on your life. I just took some steps to mitigate it.”

“The Jedi and the Republic army are perfectly capable of protecting the Chancellor!” Skywalker protests.

“I don’t doubt that,” Ben says. “I simply made sure that if there’s a bounty put on his life, fewer hunters would be willing to take it.”

“Huh? How’d you do that?”

“Guild rules. We’re not to interfere in a guild member’s job. As long as I’m here, on a ‘job’ to protect the Chancellor, the other hunters in my guild shouldn’t take on any bounties to kill him. Of course, there are other guilds out there and if the reward is high enough, some hunters may decide it’s worth it to break this rule….”

“And what happens if they do that?”

“The guild levies a hefty fine against them. And they have to answer to the hunter whose job they interfered with. In this case, me.” Ben grins sharply. “But most of them know better than to challenge me.”

“Oh, that’s good, I guess,” Skywalker says, sounding a little uncertain. Bail clears his throat and Skywalker startles like he’s forgotten he’d been bodily shielding the other man. He relaxes and shifts to the side. “Sorry, Chancellor.”

“No worries, Knight Skywalker. But if we’re all finished in here…?” He looks around the room, gaze pausing on the holographic map and the green dots Ben and Captain Layla had used to mark out the guards’ assigned stations.

“Yes, Viceroy, we are,” Captain Layla answers, wiping her bemusement off her face. “I’ll go finalize preparations for tomorrow.” She briskly stores the plans they’d been working on, gathers up her datapadd, and exits the room.

Bail claps his hands together. “Excellent. Then we can eat. Ben, you’ll stay for dinner?”

He thinks it’d be better not to—they aren’t friends, after all, and this isn’t a social visit—but Breha says, “Of course he will. We’ve got his favorite tea.” When he glances over at her, her eyes brook no arguments. He sighs but keeps it internal.

 

* * *

 

Anakin manages to last until halfway through the main course before he can’t take it any longer. As soon as there’s a break in the conversation, he says to Ben, deliberately casual, “So, it’s senators that you like?” Then he winces and hopes that no one had heard the real question he’s been wanting to ask, which is ‘Why senators and not Jedi?’

Ben doesn’t seem to notice, thankfully—though the Queen’s already been giving him knowing looks throughout dinner. The Chancellor seems content to let the conversation flow around him. Ben just laughs. There’s a twinkle in his eyes. Anakin can’t stop staring.

“Gundark’s breath, no,” Ben says vehemently when he catches his breath. “I detest politicians. They’re all liars and thieves, hiding behind facades of politeness. They’re just as corrupt as the rest of us, but they pretend like they’re not. Bail’s one of the few who’s actually decent.”

“Stop,” the Chancellor murmurs, “I’m blushing.”

“But he makes up for that with his terribly inconvenient habit of getting nearly killed on a regular basis.”

The Chancellor, Anakin is fascinated to see, actually does look a little embarrassed. “It’s not like I _try_ to get into those situations.”

“You could try _not_ getting into those situations,” Ben suggests brightly.

“My husband’s just a trouble magnet,” the Queen says fondly, reaching over and squeezing the Chancellor’s hand. “He always has been.” She smirks and lets go of his hand with a pat. “Ben’s saved Bail’s life so many times now,” she tells Anakin, “that if he were to ever ask for his hand in marriage, I’d feel obligated to give it.”

“He’s not my type,” Ben demurs.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Chancellor Organa says with a long-suffering look. “My wife offering up my hand in marriage to someone else, or being rejected.”

Anakin laughs and tries to disguise it as a cough and ends up sounding like he’s choking. He wants to die of mortification when Ben looks at him with a mix of concern and amusement. He waves away the Chancellor’s offer of a glass of water and the Queen, thankfully, steers the conversation away while Anakin tries to regain control over his breathing.

When dinner ends and the plates are being cleared away by the serving droid, the Chancellor says, “Ben, will you be staying with us tonight?”

The hunter shakes his head with a small smile. “Thank you but I have other accommodations.”

The Chancellor inclines his head. “As you wish. We’ll see you after the ceremony tomorrow, then?”

“Perhaps,” Ben says noncommittally.

They walk with him to the balcony and watch him take off with his jetpack. Anakin has a hunch about what exactly his accommodations are.

The Chancellor and his Queen wife retire to their bedroom and Anakin sweeps the rest of the apartment and checks in with the clone troopers stationed in the foyer before taking up a position in the middle of the living room to meditate. It’s not his favorite activity but it does allow him to rest and recharge without sleeping which he can’t afford right now.

Finally, Ahsoka arrives, accompanied by Rex and Fives who will be relieving the two guards on the balcony.

“Alright, Snips,” he instructs as he’s preparing to leave. “Same routine as last night. Take up position in the living room. I’ll patrol  the area. If you have any problems at all, call me. I won’t be far.”

“Yes, Master.”

Anakin nods and sets off on a circuit of the floor. He walks through the floors above and below as well and then goes to the hangar bay to borrow somebody’s speeder bike. It doesn’t take him long to locate a familiar figure kneeling on a rooftop with a clear view of the Chancellor’s apartment.

He lands quietly behind him and walks silently up to the bounty hunter, who’s still facing the Senate apartment building, looking through the scope of his rifle.

“Thought you had somewhere to go for the night,” he says casually, hand on his lightsaber hilt in case the hunter startles and tries to shoot him.

But Ben doesn’t even sound surprised when he says simply, “I do. Here,” so he must have seen Anakin approaching in the speeder somehow.

He stops at the edge of the roof and looks around. They’re far enough away from the apartment that they wouldn’t be easily spotted by anyone there or in the immediate vicinity. It’s not the highest building around but it is several stories taller than Organa’s apartment.

“This is a lot of effort you’re going through for a minimum reward bounty on someone you supposedly only tolerate.” Anakin drops down to sit on the floor of the roof near Ben, at an angle so he can see both the hunter and the Chancellor’s apartment. His heart rate picks up at the proximity to the other man.

“I like to stalk people for fun,” Ben says, deadpan.

Anakin blinks. “Really?”

Ben turns away from the scope of his rifle to give him a look. “ _No_ , that was a joke.”

“Oh! Well, I mean, you never know, sometimes,” Anakin splutters, feeling his face heat up from embarrassment. This is not going well.

“The thing about bounty hunters that you should know is that we never do anything for free. If someone isn’t paying us to do something, then it isn’t worth doing.”

“ _Really_. Even the bare minimum payment which you set up yourself? When you could have set any reward amount you wanted and taken full advantage of them?” Anakin infuses as much disbelief into that as he can. He looks pointedly at Organa’s apartment and back at Ben.

“This is not about the credits. This is about doing another favor that the future Chancellor and his wife will owe me. One day I might need to collect on something like that.”

“So all that back there was, what? Playacting? Somehow I don’t believe you.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “You should. I’m not like you. I’m a bounty hunter. I only do things that benefit me.” He turns back to his rifle and leans in to look through the scope.

Anakin purses his lips and stares at his back, thinking about his interactions with the Chancellor and the Queen and feeling certain that Ben does think of them as friends.

After some time, Ben sighs. “Fine. The first time it happened, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I dislike collateral damage. So I pushed him out of the way. That was the one freebie.”

The silence between them builds as Anakin waits to hear more and Ben refuses to share more. He remembers then, that he’d talked about staying under the radar of the Republic security in the cantina. But even aside from that, he gets the sense that unlike Hardeen, Ben doesn’t like bragging about his jobs. So he gives up on waiting and snorts. “You dislike collateral damage? Then what was that at the cantina?”

Ben shakes his head with a small smile. “That was...letting others run their jobs the way they want.”

“So you just went along for the ride? That’s not what it looked like when you were beating up all the pirates.” Even thinking about that fight now gives him goosebumps. The hunter had been a sight to behold, movements graceful and efficient, flowing with a speed and accuracy that seemed impossible for a human (Ahsoka may have been right to question Ben’s genetics, Anakin had concluded later).

“Sometimes you’ve gotta blow off some steam.” Ben shrugs, smirking. “They’re all okay. We were just setting up a distraction.”

To hide the killing of the slave owners, Anakin’s certain. It had been like that on Zygerria, too, chaos breaking out after the Queen was killed…. “Hey, was that you on Zygerria?” He kicks himself for not drawing the connection sooner.

Ben arches one brow and doesn’t say anything.

But he doesn’t have to. Now that Anakin’s thinking about it, it makes a lot of sense. “A clean headshot like that...from that distance….” He has a sudden flashback to Ben standing with the sniper rifle in Dooku’s Cube and he knows without a doubt that Ben could have made that shot. Could have made it from much further away, too. “But why the explosion? If you don’t like collateral damage?”

Ben’s lips quirk up at the corner. “Perhaps the person who made that shot did it with a blaster that was...assembled from parts that weren’t...entirely compatible with each other.”

“So you...overloaded your gun? But the explosion happened below—oh, I see.” Anakin can’t hold back a chuckle.

“What?” Ben asks.

“Sorry, it’s just. You always seem so cool, so put-together. I can’t imagine you throwing away a blaster like it’s a bomb about to go off and then running off.”

Ben shrugs again but there’s a twinkle in his eyes. “Shit happens.”

Anakin huffs out a final laugh. “Yeah, tell me about it. One time, I got my lightsaber cut in half in a droid foundry.”

“What?” Ben laughs and looks surprised at doing so.

“Yeah, I got trapped on a conveyor belt and one of those massive molding plates came down right on top of the handle and broke it in half. My Master was _not_ impressed.” Anakin shifts and leans in just a little towards the other man.

“No, I imagine he wouldn’t have been.” Ben gives him a small smile that sends warmth flooding through him.

“Thanks for the tip on Zygerria, though. We were able to rescue the togruta colonists and get them resettled somewhere safe.”

“That’s good,” Ben murmurs. He leans over to look through his rifle scope.

Anakin sorts through all the questions he wants to ask. He wants to know everything about Ben, wants to hear him talking about anything at all. “So how did you get into the bounty hunting business?” he settles on.

“Another thing you should know about bounty hunters,” Ben answers without looking away from his scope, “is that we all have a reason we got into the business. And none of us like to talk about it.”

“Oh.” He kicks himself for putting his foot in his mouth and making the other man put up his walls again. He scrambles to think of how he can recapture the ease they’d had before.

But then Ben says, “There’s only one who might have always just known he wanted to...follow in his father’s footsteps that I can think of.” He sounds almost regretful.

“Boba Fett?”

Ben looks over at him, surprised. “Yes. You know him?”

Anakin frowns. “He snuck on board Master Windu’s ship and tried to assassinate him. I was there when he made the attempt.”

“Ah, yes. I’d heard about that.” He shakes his head. “I thought about reaching out to him. He’s around the age I was when I first started and his father and I had...some history together.”

Anakin blinks and does some quick calculations. “You were _12_ when you became a bounty hunter?” Then the rest of Ben’s sentence registers in his head. “You and _Jango Fett_?” he yelps. “ _Seriously?_ ”

Ben averts his gaze. “We were both young.” There’s a light flush on his neck, disappearing into the high collar of his coat. Anakin can’t tear his eyes away from it. “We wanted entirely different things but we were both too stubborn to admit it wasn’t working. It ended quite messily. By mutual agreement, we took jobs as far from each other as possible after. Last I heard, he had been in semi-retirement. Found a nice, long-term job in the Outer Rim. I was happy for him, and happier that I no longer had to worry about running into him again. And then I heard that he was beheaded in battle against a Jedi on Geonosis and left a child behind.”

“So that’s why you don’t sleep with other bounty hunters anymore?” Anakin asks faintly.

Ben grimaces. “Yes. Bad to mix business and pleasure, I learned.”

“But wait—the troopers—”

“Imagine my shock when I saw one of them without their helmet on the Holonews one evening,” Ben says drily. “I believe it was Commander Cody. He’s one of the ones who look the most like Jango, too.”

Anakin feels a sudden surge of jealousy towards the clone commander. Then he wants to bury his face in his hands. There are _billions_ of clone troopers. Troopers who look like Ben’s ex but aren’t in the bounty hunting business so there’s no conflict of interest. Is Ben still harboring feelings for his ex?

 _Breathe, Anakin._ He tells himself. _It doesn’t matter if Ben sleeps with one of the troopers or even marries them._ It can’t matter. He’s a Jedi. Marriage or even a committed relationship isn’t an option for him. He’s made an oath to serve the Force and the Republic.

“What about Captain Rex?” he asks in a strangled voice. He can’t help it; some part of him has a morbid curiosity. “He’s got a bit of genetic variability. With his hair color.”

Ben looks thoughtful. “Oh, yes. Well, his facial features still resemble Jango’s but yes, the different hair coloring does make him stand out.”

 _What does_ that _mean?_ Anakin decides to stop this line of questioning before he drives himself mad.

Ben leans down to look through his rifle’s scope again and Anakin takes the opportunity to scan the cityscape for a distraction.

“Oh, look,” he says. “You can see the Jedi Temple from here.” He points to the spires of the Temple rising up among Coruscant’s skyscrapers. It’s one of the oldest buildings on the planet and it shows in the different style of architecture. “I grew up there but I never get tired of seeing it. Have you ever seen it?”

Ben glances over and then looks away again. “Yes. I grew up on Coruscant so I’m well familiar with the Jedi Temple.”

“You grew up here?” It does make sense, given his accent.

Ben nods. “I met Giz'ahan and Koy'itar down on the lower levels. We operated out of here for a couple of years and then moved to the Mid and Outer Rims when I was older.”

“Oh.” It takes a heroic effort but Anakin makes himself settle for the crumbs of information that Ben is giving him about his past. _Don’t push too hard, too fast. Take what they give you and work with that_ , his Master had told him when he was learning diplomacy. He’s pretty sure Master Qui-Gon hadn’t intended for his lesson to be applied in this particular situation but Anakin feels like he would understand. “I was born on Alderaan,” he offers. “And then brought to the Jedi Temple when I was two.”

“Alderaan, huh? Is that why you’ve got protection duty for the Chancellor?”

Anakin gives a half-shrug. “I’m also one of the best duelists in the Order.”

“Modest, aren’t you?” Ben asks with an arched brow. “I thought the Jedi frowned on pride.”

“It’s just the truth. And it’s important to know your own strengths and weaknesses.”

“So what are your weaknesses?”

“Attachment,” he says with a twist of his lips. _Let go of things that happened in the past,_ Qui-Gon had often told him. _Focus on the present_.

Ben just hums in response. He goes back to looking through the rifle’s scope and a silence falls.

It’s not uncomfortable but Anakin’s acutely aware of how limited their time is together. He racks his mind for neutral conversational topics. He startles when Ben is the one who breaks the silence.

“Is it okay for you to stay out here for so long?” he asks mildly.

Anakin’s heart rate picks up again, this time in worry. “Why? Did you see something in the apartment?”

Ben shakes his head. “No, it looks quiet from here. But your apprentice….”

Of course Ben had seen when Ahsoka came and took over the watch. Anakin’s starting to wonder if anything escapes Ben’s notice. “Ahsoka’s good. She’ll tell me if she needs me,” he says, feeling confident. But suddenly, he’s worried. What if she’s unable to? What if an assailant had taken her by surprise and knocked her unconscious? “Actually, just give me a moment to check in.”

_:Hey, Snips, how’re you doing?:_

_:Fine,:_ she responds immediately and he breathes out a sigh of relief. _:It’s all quiet here. The Chancellor and his wife have gone to sleep.:_

_:Good. I’m on a rooftop with a view of the outside of the apartment. It looks all quiet from here, too.:_

_:You’re on a rooftop? Why—oh, Ben’s there too?:_

Anakin flushes. _:Yes, but it’s not like that. He’s apparently friends with the Organas and he’s here on a job, which he created himself, to protect Bail. I suspected that he was going to be setting up observation somewhere and I found him. I’m keeping an eye on him.:_

 _:Uh-huh.:_ Her thought sounds and feels skeptical.

 _:Anyway, I just wanted to check in. I’ll check in again later.:_ She sends a thrum of agreement and he lets their bond fade into the back of his mind. He looks over to see Ben watching him with open curiosity. “She says everything’s fine inside, too.”

Ben nods. He seems to be debating with himself, biting on his bottom lip as if he’s trying to keep himself from asking or saying something. Finally, sounding younger than he is, he asks, “What’s it like...having someone in your head like that?”

Anakin blinks. “It’s…” he pauses, tries to remember what it had felt like when he was setting up his training bond with Master Qui-Gon. He had been nine, just barely old enough to be eligible for a promotion to being a Padawan. The Council wasn’t entirely supportive of it but Qui-Gon had been insistent and he hadn’t taken on a Padawan in decades, and he was recovering from a near-fatal injury after a mission to Naboo. So they had approved on the condition that the two of them stay on Coruscant for the first four years of Anakin’s training. Their bond had been at once easy to form and hard to create. It was the same for him and Ahsoka. “It’s weird, at the beginning,” he decides on. “Definitely takes some getting used to. But it’s not like we’re in each other’s heads all the time.”

Ben’s brows furrow and he cocks his head, getting a distant look in his eyes before he focuses back on Anakin.

The weight of that gaze makes him feel like they’re the only two people in the world; the hush of the city-planet deep in its night cycle just adds to that. Anakin licks his lips. “We form a training bond with our Masters when we become Padawans. At first, it’s pretty weak. Trying to talk to the other person through it is like shouting over a huge distance. It takes time to build it up and strengthen it. But even once it’s stable, it’s not like it’s always active. You know? Like, Master Qui-Gon wasn’t always aware of what I was thinking and I’m not always aware of what Ahsoka’s thinking. That would be exhausting. And a violation of privacy.”

“I...see.”

Anakin winces. “Sorry. It’s hard to explain. I’ve never actually tried to describe it.”

“I imagine it’s something you have to have experienced in order to really understand,” Ben murmurs. He sounds almost wistful. Or regretful. He shakes his head. “So. Tomorrow.”

Anakin’s a little thrown by the change in topic. “Yeah?”

“You’ll be stationed with the Chancellor?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Take care of him.”

Anakin frowns. “Where will you be?”

“Watching from afar, of course.” Ben pats the barrel of his rifle like that’s all the reassurance he needs. Anakin looks between Ben’s set up and the Organas’ apartment and gauges the distance between them and supposes that is all the reassurance he needs.

“So will I be seeing you before you leave Coruscant?”

“Mm, not likely,” Ben says and this time, he really does sound regretful. Anakin grabs onto that and lets it soothe his disappointment. “I’m afraid I have to leave immediately after the ceremony.”

Anakin sighs. He tells himself that at least they’d had a chance to talk and he’d gotten to know the other man better. There will be other opportunities. He’s sure of that.

 

* * *

 

Something is going to happen today. He can feel it.

“Ben, this is Adem Malkary,” Captain Layla says, drawing his focus back to the immediate present. She gestures at the boy standing at her side with a sniper rifle strapped behind his back. His blue eyes shine brightly with the innocence of youth and he has a mop of curly black hair that stands out all the more because of his pale skin color. “The both of you will be stationed on the outer perimeter as our long-range snipers.”

Ben raises his eyebrows at her because the boy doesn’t look nearly old enough to be part of Bail’s security team, never mind that his uniform looks freshly pressed and like he’s only just put it on for the first time that day. “He is our newest member,” Layla admits. “But he’s a prodigy. Best shooter we’ve had in years. Graduated top of the class at the academy.”

“Graduated _when_? Yesterday?”

“Two months ago,” Malkary pipes up indignantly. He shrinks back when Ben looks at him and tacks on, “Sir.”

Ben sighs. “I’m not—” he remembers that he’s dressed in the same uniform, so as not to draw attention to himself. “You don’t have to address me like that.” He grimaces.

“Ben’s...unconventional,” Layla tells Malkary. Then she dismisses them and moves on to the next pair of guards. Ben watches her go and wishes, not for the first time during this job, that he’d taken Koyi’s offer after all.

Malkary eyes him curiously and then he gasps when he sees his rifle. “Is that a BlasTech Sharpshooter IV? With an X94 targeting scope? I didn’t think those came with that!”

“They don’t,” Ben says, curling his lips in a grin. “This is a custom build.”

Malkary gapes in a gratifying manner. He reaches out, as if to run a hand along the barrel, before he catches himself and withdraws with a blush. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Ben waves off his apology. He rarely runs into anyone not in the business who knows or cares about rifles so he’s feeling magnanimous.

“How’d you—That’s not regulation.”

“Isn’t it? Pity.” Ben turns and starts to walk towards their post; he hears Malkary hurrying behind him and can feel the boy’s speculative look on his back.

“You’re not a member of the Viceroy’s security team, are you?”

Clever boy. Ben glances over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Who are you?” He looks curious but not suspicious.

“You can say I’m a friend of the future Chancellor’s,” Ben says, turning his head to face forward again. Malkary seems to consider that for a moment, then speeds up to walk beside him, filling the silence with idle chatter. He wants to shake his head at the boy’s trusting nature. Finally, he interrupts a story about the boy’s academy years—something about a midnight prank and getting locked out of the dorms—to ask, “Aren’t you at all worried that I’m not who I say I am?”

Malkary doesn’t hesitate. “I trust the Captain. And she trusts you, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Ben wants to throw his hands up in exasperation. “Kid,” he says, “you’re lucky I actually am a friend of the Chancellor’s. But you’ve gotta be more careful. You’re not in school anymore, the real world doesn’t operate on the same rules.” Then he wonders why he’s even bothering. It’s no matter to him if the Chancellor’s security is lax. “In any case, please stop talking. You’re going to give away our position.”

To his credit, the boy doesn’t argue but just shuts his mouth and follows his lead as he slips into the shadows of the buildings. They’re still some distance away from their destination but if there really are enemies waiting to take aim at the Chancellor, he doesn’t want them to follow them to what he’s picked out as the perfect sniper spots.

“Nice view,” Malkary murmurs when they get to the rooftop of a building that has an unobstructed view of the plaza in front of the Senate building. They’re about three kilometers away, so Malkary’s most likely talking about the clear sightlines rather than the actual view of the plaza, which looks miniscule at this distance.

“Mm,” Ben says. “It’s what I would choose if I was here to kill the Chancellor.”

Malkary gives him a sharp look but must decide that Ben’s joking because he just rolls his eyes and  splits off to do a security check of his half of the roof. Ben’s not joking. This really is one of the places he’d choose to set up a nest for an assassination shot, which is why he’d picked it.

“Are you accurate at this range?” he asks into their private comm line once they’ve cleared the area and are setting up at the two corners of the roof that face the plaza. He looks over to see Malkary grinning widely and patting the rifle he’s positioned on its tripod.

“With this baby, I am. This is a top of the line Merr-Sonn sniper rifle. There isn’t a better gun in all the Republic army.”

Ben is suitably impressed that they entrusted such a gun to such a new member of Bail’s team. “Good,” he says.

They settle into watchful silence. It’s early yet, with hours to go before the ceremony is scheduled to start. He keeps half his attention on the final preparations being undertaken on the plaza and half on the entrance to the roof.

When trouble comes, though, it isn’t through the door they themselves had used. It comes from the side of the building, in the form of a humanoid shaped droid with grey metal plating and red sensor lights, clutching a blaster rifle in one hand.

“Kriff,” he curses as he reflexively aims and fires his blaster pistol. It’s a clean shot through where an organic being’s heart most often is but droids have a different anatomy and all that happens is that the droid staggers back a step. He takes aim at the red sensor lights instead and fires a series of shots before the droid can get its bearings. A hail of blaster bolts hits it from the side as well and Ben spares a glance to confirm that it’s Malkary who’s calmly firing his own blaster and not another enemy.

The droid falls with sparks of electricity and Ben cautiously edges over and kicks its blaster away. The red lights in its head have dimmed. Its limbs twitch once and then lie still.

“Mother of moons!” Malkary says in his in-ear comm. “Is that—?”

“An assassin droid,” Ben confirms grimly. An IG-86 model, so it’s either the Hutts or the Confederacy that’s behind the latest plot against a Chancellor of the Republic. It could just have been a rogue droid, but Ben doesn’t think they’re that lucky. “Call it in to the Captain and keep your eyes open.”

 

* * *

 

They use a ray shield just as they had on Naboo, only they post more guards around the generator. Ben finds Skywalker standing guard by the stage, eyes drawn to him without any conscious decision to seek him out. His features are blurred by the blue haze of the shield but he can recognize the Jedi by his body language and that wavy hair.

The first half of the ceremony’s gone smoothly but he knows there’s something wrong when he sees an approaching air transport in clear violation of the no-fly zone set up around the Senate building for the ceremony. It’s close enough to them that he can see it when a smaller airspeeder pulls up alongside it and a figure leaps out of the passenger side onto the top of the transport. The airspeeder pulls away. A line of green light appears in the figure’s hand and then is stabbed downwards into the metal hull. It makes a quick circular movement and the figure disappears into the transport.

“Jedi,” Malkary says, sounding awed.

“Jedi,” Ben says with an exasperated shake of his head.

 

* * *

 

 “I’m in,” Quinlan’s voice announces through the communicator. “I don’t sense any lifeforms on board.”

“Droids, then,” Anakin says. “Separatists.”

“That would be my guess as well.” There’s the sound of a door swishing open and then Quinlan says, “Guess confirmed. Be right back.” The familiar hum of a lightsaber igniting is the last thing on the line before Quinlan mutes it on his end.

Anakin takes the opportunity to survey the crowd of Senators, Jedi Councilors, and media seated on the stands before him. They’d limited the number of physically present attendees to the minimum required to reach a quorum for witnessing the ceremony; the rest are there via holoprojection. It’s still too many to risk. He hates politics.

Behind him, on a raised platform, Master Windu in his role of Master of the Jedi Order is conducting the actual swearing-in of Chancellor Organa. Master Yoda and Mas Amedda are standing on the stage as well, though positioned near the back as high ranking witnesses. Anakin’s only been paying partial attention to the proceedings; it sounds like a lot of ceremonial speech-making and oath-taking, even though they’re doing an abbreviated version of the ceremony.

“I’m all set here,” Quinlan says, coming back on the line sounding only a little out of breath. “I’m just going to set this baby down somewhere out of the way. Aayla, come and get me?”

“Will do,” she confirms. “The skies are clear now.”

“Good,” Anakin says.

There’s a few minutes of quiet, and then Bant says, “Two squads of battle droids headed your way, Anakin. One and a half kilometers out. Two droidekas in each, one B2, ten B1s. I’m sending coordinates.”

A soft beep on his wrist comm indicates that he’s received it and he glances down to see a red blinking light on the digital map of the city around them. “Got it.”

“Okay. I’ll take one of the squads.”

“How much more time do we need?” He glances over at Ahsoka, stationed by the other end of the platform and knows she’s thinking the same thing. How are all of these droids getting so close?

It’s Qui-Gon who answers him. “Fifteen minutes, I would say.”

That’s far too long. “I’ll go intercept them.” He strides quickly to the back of the crowd, where the shield generator is being guarded by members of Organa’s personal security team and clone troopers. “Let me out, and then put the shield back up immediately,” he tells them. “We’ve got droids incoming.”

They do as instructed and Anakin’s standing just outside the perimeter of the reforming ray shield when two droidekas roll into view at the bottom of the steps to the plaza. They stand and open fire.

“Sith hells, the little buggers are fast,” he curses as he switches his lightsaber on and twirls it to deflect the blaster bolts away from the shield generator. Behind him, he can hear some of the Senators yelling in alarm. Master Windu pauses in the middle of reciting another oath for the Chancellor to repeat. “Keep going,” Anakin grunts. “I’ve got this.” Master Windu doesn’t respond but he does continue.

“The shield’s back up,” Ahsoka tells him, and that’s a relief, but it won’t hold out indefinitely under the constant bombardment of blaster bolts.

“Rex, what’s your position? I could use some help here.” He deflects as many of the bolts back at the droids themselves but they bounce harmlessly off of their personal shields. He swings his blade through the defensive maneuvers all Jedi are drilled in since before they’re old enough to hold a lightsaber but while he’s gotten better at them over the course of the war, he’s always been more of an offensive fighter and he winces as some of the bolts get through his guard.

“We’ve engaged the rest of the droids about 500 meters out,” Rex says over the sound of blaster fire.

No help from the troopers, then. “Great,” he says. “Keep them there.”

Suddenly, one of the droidekas staggers a couple of steps forward as it’s hit from behind and its shots go wide. Anakin takes advantage of the opening and starts pressing forward against the volley of bolts from the other droid. Seconds later, that one stumbles when the ground below it explodes in a blast of rubble.

There’s no one around that Anakin can see or sense who could have fired those shots. He grins widely. _Thanks, Ben_. He sends the thought into the Force, knowing that there’s no way the bounty hunter could hear it. But he likes to think that the Force will convey his gratitude somehow.

Then he gathers the Force to him and takes a running leap at the two droidekas who are starting to get their feet under them again.

 

* * *

 

Ben watches to make sure that Skywalker’s got a handle on the two droidekas but it looks like all he had needed was the distraction to gain the upper hand. He’s a whirlwind of vibrant energy between the two droids, blue saber clashing against the red of blaster bolts.

He turns his attention to the fight that’s closer to them. His heart had leapt into his throat when he saw the mon calamari Jedi jump down to block the passageway of one of the two droid squads making their way through the walkways between buildings. They’d been hugging the walls of the buildings, so Malkary and he couldn’t get any good shots until they were drawn into the open by their fight with the Jedi; they must have suspected that there were snipers around.

He breathes a silent sigh of relief when he sees that Malkary’s been doing a good job of providing support. There’s only a few droids still standing. The Jedi— _Bant_ , his mind supplies with a pang _—_ cuts through the B2 unit and Ben fires at the B1 droid taking aim at her from her blind spot. She would have been fine, he knows—she had already started to turn and raise her lightsaber to deflect—but he feels the need to do _something_ to help her. She doesn’t break stride; just raises her other hand at the one remaining droid who’s then thrown back into a wall with such force that its plating caves in.

She maintains her position for a second, waiting to see if any of the droids get back up again. They don’t. She straightens and hooks her lightsaber hilt into her belt and tilts her head in their direction, though she doesn’t try to look up and see them. She wouldn’t be able to get a good look at them anyway, since they’re mostly hunched down behind the low wall serving as a protective railing around the roof.

She’s become a fierce fighter, Ben muses. The war’s made her into a soldier. He can’t help feeling a little sad about that.

She melts back into the shadows and Ben checks in on the plaza. They’ve finally finished the ceremony, it looks like. The ray shield has been lowered and the Senators are being escorted by a ring of Jedi and clone troopers into the Senate building, the Chancellor a bright spot in the middle of the group with his gold-brocaded ceremonial robe. He waits until they’re fully inside to survey the rest of the area.

Skywalker’s nowhere to be seen, but the remnants of the droidekas lie scattered on the steps to the plaza. The platform the Chancellor had been standing on has retracted back into the floor. The seats are being cleared away by a cleaning crew.

“You’re _him_ , aren’t you?” Malkary asks, packing up his rifle. Ben starts to break down his set-up as well.

“Him, who?”

“ _Him_ ,” Malkary repeats insistently and vaguely. He waves one hand at Ben in emphasis. “The sniper who’s saved the Viceroy from certain death over and over again.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Ben says dismissively.

“It’s you, it has to be you. How many people could make shots like that and claim to be friends with the Viceroy?”

“You made equally impressive shots.”

Malkary snorts. “Not quite, but thanks for the compliment. I can’t believe this. Wait ‘til I—”

“Tell anyone I was here and it’ll be the last thing you tell anyone at all,” Ben cuts in mildly.

“—tell absolutely no one and keep this memory secret for the rest of my life to treasure and use as private motivation to get better.”

Ben considers. “That’s fine.”

Malkary laughs nervously. Silence falls but the air practically vibrates with his excitement. Sure enough, he quickly regains his courage and says, “You know, our callsign for you is Blackwing.”

Ben furrows his brow. “Blackwing? Not after that children’s cartoon, I hope.”

Malkary grins. “That very one. The superhero who lurks in the shadows and appears just in the nick of time to save the day. It’s very popular on Alderaan.”

“I am no superhero,” Ben says. Then something occurs to him and he can’t stop his lips from curling up in amusement. “But does that make Bail the hapless and adored boyfriend who constantly gets into trouble and needs saving in nearly every episode?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Malkary chuckles.

“You should tell him that.”

“No way. I happen to like having a job.”

“Well,” Ben says with finality, clicking his rifle case closed. “I trust you’ll be able to find your way back to the team on your own. It’s been nice working with you, Malkary.” He finds that he even means it.

“You too...Blackwing.” Malkary salutes him cheekily.

 

* * *

 

Later, when the immediate threat is over and they’ve learned that Mas Amedda’s cleared out his office and his apartment and has disappeared and the High Council is locked in a meeting with the new Chancellor about next steps in the war efforts and Anakin’s finally back in his room at the Temple and collapsed into his own bed for the first time in days—

Later, he checks his disposable communicator that only has the one contact saved in it and sees that there’s a message waiting for him:

‘Your _real_ weakness is your lack of defense, Skywalker.’

Anakin grins and bites his lip as he types out his response. ‘Good thing you were there to watch my back then. Or my front, as the case may be. ;)’


	8. Chapter 7 - Bounty on Pirates, by Pirates

Two months after Bail is sworn in as Chancellor, Ben finds himself remembering the evening he’d spent on the rooftop with Skywalker as he’s lying in wait on Florrum. It had been far too easy to talk to the Jedi and tell him things he wouldn’t have spoken about with someone else. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s a Jedi or because there’s still something about him that feels familiar to Ben, as if he knew him from somewhere before.

 _Or perhaps_ , he reluctantly admits to himself as he pictures Skywalker’s brown curls, the spark in his eyes, the openness of his expression, his deep-throated laugh, _it’s because he’s all fire and passion and deadliness and Sith hells, Giza and Koyi are never going to let me live this down. It’s Jango all over again._

“We’ve got incoming,” Ahnuuk announces in their commlink from her position in the sky.

Moments later, the ship is visible—large, hulking, menacing.

“Those rogue Jedi!” Hondo curses. “How dare they actually come attack _my_ base with _my_ traitorous crew!”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Hondo, I told you before. They’re not Jedi if they use red lightsabers. They’re probably Dooku’s newest assassins.” Then he remembers Skywalker’s comment about Sith in the galaxy and shudders. _Surely not. The Sith wouldn’t waste their time attacking pirates, would they?_ He dearly hopes not.

“Dooku’s minions!” Hondo says instead, as the ship lands. “Come to try to finish the job that Grievous started! Well, they have underestimated Hondo Ohnaka for the last time!”

The doors to the ship open and pirates spill out, firing blasters as they run. At the back, leisurely making their way off the ship are two horned zabraki males, one whose skin is red with black markings and walks on mechanical legs, the other whose skin is yellow with brown markings and towers over the first. They stay in the shadows of their ship, as if content to just stand back and watch the melee before them. The ship blocks Ben’s line of sight so he leaves them be and starts picking off Hondo’s former crewmembers from his vantage point.

A few realize that there’s a long-range sniper present but he’s far enough away that either their blaster shots can’t reach him or they can’t aim accurately enough to hit him.

He spots Koyi and Giza twirling side by side in thick of things, blades flashing as they catch and reflect the sunlight, energy shields shining with self-generated light. He takes out a couple of their opponents just to give them more breathing room.

“Ben!” they chide him simultaneously.

“What? Don’t be so bloodthirsty,” he counters. “There’s plenty to go around."

“It’s not that—” Giza grunts.

“—it’s that we’re fine. You should check on the others,” Koyi finishes. “Although,” she tacks on thoughtfully, “it is also that.”

They’re not related by blood, but Ben swears sometimes that they really are the twins that their moniker suggests.

A screech rips through the air just as a blur of brown and white hurtles down towards the group. The pirates scream and try to scatter. Large wings snap out and Ahnuuk closes her talons on the shoulders of a pirate before swooping back into a sharp climb.

“She always seemed so nice but wow, Ahnuuk’s really kinda terrifying,” Bela, one of their newest members, comments.

“Hah! You hear that? I’m terrifying!” Ahnuuk crows. She drops the pirate into a crowd of fighters, not nearly from a height high enough to kill them or even cause serious harm. But it does serve to break up the crowd.

Ben can’t help the fond grin tugging at his lips.

She soars back up into the sky but then pauses, looking out into the distance. “Hey everyone, there’s a Republic ship on the way.”

“What?” Hondo demands, sounding scandalized. “No! I will _not_ allow my planet to become a battleground for the war!”

“I don’t think you could stop them,” Ben says, dryly. He swings his rifle over to the two horned zabraks and sees that they’ve tensed up. Have they sensed the approach of the ship?

It’s a small starfighter that breaks through the cloud cover and he looks over to follow its trajectory. It has red markings and as it nears, the wings fold up so that it takes on the overall shape of a pyramid when it lands. The doors open and two beings run out, scanning the scene around them. The male human Ben recognizes with a groan: Master Qui-Gon Jinn. The other is a dark-skinned tholothian female.

“It’s Jedi,” he announces over the comms just as the two zabraks leap up onto the ledge the Jedi had landed on. All four ignite their lightsabers and start to circle each other.

“That’s even worse,” Hondo moans. “Jedi break _everything_.”

Ben ignores Hondo’s dramatization. “Well, maybe they can take care of the two zabraks. Focus on the pirates, everyone.” A chorus of acknowledgements return to him but against his own instructions, he finds himself splitting his attention between the fight with the pirates and the fight between the Jedi and their red-bladed opponents.

The fight with the pirates is going well.

The Jedi’s fight is not. It spills over into the lower levels, and pirates and bounty hunters alike scramble to get away from the deadly sabers they all wield. Red, green, and blue lights blur and clash against each other with loud crackles and sizzles.

The tholathian’s taken on the bigger zabrak with the brown facial markings and though she’s much smaller than him, she’s faster and she darts in under his guard to strike at him before dancing out of range.

Jinn’s fighting against the other zabrak, with black markings, who regards him with such intense hatred that Ben can tell there’s some history there. He doesn’t know if it’s because of that hatred or if it’s because of Jinn’s age or some difference in their skill level, but it looks like the zabrak is gaining the upper hand.

He hears someone cry out and pivots his rifle to see the tholathian Jedi has been shoved against the side of a tall outcropping of rocks. He swallows a curse; she looks too dazed to get out of the way of the zabrak who looks like he’s going to charge at her head first and use his horns like short spears.

Ben shoots before he can think about it and it’s probably the unexpectedness of the shot as well as the zabrak’s preoccupation with the Jedi that the blast isn’t blocked or deflected. It glances off his armored collar; it didn’t hit hard enough to break through to the skin of his neck but it landed close enough to get his attention.

The zabrak roars and whips his head around, searching for the source of the blaster shot. Searching for _him_.

Ben can feel the heavy pressure of that gaze and shudders with the knowledge that he’s just painted a target on himself. He flattens himself against the ground and holds his breath, peeking out just enough to keep an eye on the scene; a sense of dread seems to push down against him, pinning him in place.

The Jedi stretches her hand out and her fallen lightsaber flies into it and ignites. The zabrak turns back to face her and Ben releases his breath. She’s moving slower than she had been, so she must have sustained an injury at some point during the fight.

Ben pushes himself back up into position and swings his rifle in a broad circle, doing a quick sweep of the rest of the melee. Most of the fighting seems to be wrapping up, with Hondo’s renegade pirates folding under the onslaught from the combined forces of Hondo’s loyal pirates and Ben’s House.

There’s another yell. This one sounds triumphant and Ben looks sharply back at the Jedi’s fight. He sucks in a breath when he sees Jinn clutching his side and collapsing; there’s a thin stream of smoke floating up from presumably a lightsaber-induced injury.

The zabrak spins his saber until he holds it in a vertical grip and raises it for a killing blow.

“Oh, no,” Ben mutters. He may not like the man but he can’t let him die without trying to do something. He shifts his grip on his rifle, steadies his breathing, takes aim, and shoots.

Unlike his partner earlier though, this zabrak seems to sense the blaster shot coming. Moving almost too fast for Ben to follow, he slashes his blade up in a diagonal swing and deflects the shot. Then he looks up and straight at where Ben’s staked out.

“Shit,” he curses and fires again. Another block. He lowers his aim and fires a third time, aiming for one of his mechanical legs. The zabrak blocks that too and takes a step forward.

“Ben, what’s going on?” Koyi asks, a little breathless. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine. One of the Jedi went down so I covered him.” He aims and shoots again. The zabrak deflects the bolt and leaps up onto a large crate. “Good news: I distracted him from killing the Jedi.” He follows the zabrak’s trajectory with his rifle and shoots at him in his new position. The zabrak blocks and Ben can see the snarl on his face. “Bad news: I think _I’m_ his target now. And he’s fast.”

“Get out of there, Ben,” Giza says.

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” He stands and activates his jetpack. He only gets a few feet into the air before he’s seized by an invisible grip. The sudden stop makes his stomach drop nauseatingly. Knowing who stopped him and how makes his heart pound in panic. He hangs suspended in the air a second, the propulsion from his jetpack fighting against the unseen force trying to pull him down.

The hold on him tightens and Ben chokes as his air’s cut off. Even knowing that there’s nothing physically wrapped around his throat, he can’t help raising his hands to it and trying to grab onto something that he can pull away so that he can breathe again.

Then he’s suddenly jerked down.

He’s slammed into the ground, landing hard on his side. The invisible grip releases him but he’s too dazed to do more than lay there and wheeze. Black spots blink in and out in front of him.

It’s the cacophony of voices screaming his name over the comms that brings him back to the present. He blinks, and groans. His entire right side feels like one large bruise. Every breath he takes in is accompanied by a sharp pain.

“Ben! Ben, get _up_ ,” Vinnath screams in his ear.

“I’m on my way. I’m coming to get you,” Ahnuuk says. He sees a sudden flash of Ahnuuk diving down and reaching out for him and the zabrak slashing at her wings. Her screams rings in his ears and his blood runs cold.

“No,” he grunts, shaking the image away. “Stay back, Ahnuuk. It’s too dangerous.”

He’s lying on something long and hard. He gingerly pushes himself up and sees that it’s the barrel of his rifle, and it’s cracked down the middle. _Great_. At least the jetpack hadn’t exploded. That would have brought a very swift and fiery end to things, but not to his benefit. _And where’s—_ he looks around, sees Jinn unconscious near him, his lightsaber handle on the floor between them. The red zabrak is stalking over, malevolence radiating from him in palpable waves. Ben gulps.

The zabrak raises his saber and the energy radiating off the red blade makes the air around it seem to shimmer. It slashes down and Ben throws himself into a roll, ignoring his body’s protest at the sudden movement. There’s a sizzle behind him as the saber cuts across the sand where he’d been. The zabrak rears back, looking shocked that he’d evaded evisceration. Or perhaps shocked at his audacity for doing so. Ben takes advantage of that momentary lapse to swing his gun as hard as he can into the backs of the zabrak’s mechanical knee joints. They buckle and he stumbles with a grunt.

Ben unhooks his jetpack while the zabrak is steadying himself and throws it at him. He scrambles back quickly.

Instead of slashing at it with his lightsaber, though, the zabrak holds out a clawed hand and it hovers in front of him for a second before flying off to the side, exploding on impact.

“Okay, that didn’t work.” He pats the ground around him frantically, searching for something, anything he could use. Jinn’s no help and the other Jedi is still fighting off the other zabrak.

“We’re coming, Ben,” Koyi’s voice comes through on the comms. “Hang in there.” She sounds out of breath.

“What _else_ would I do?” he mutters back.

“Ahnuuk, get the ship. We’ll need the guns,” Giza adds.

“I must commend you for your persistence,” the zabrak snarls. “You have been surprisingly annoying.”

“Thanks,” Ben tells him earnestly. “That’s what I always wanted to be.” His hand closes around something metallic and cylindrical. He flicks his gaze down and, throat closing, sees that it’s Jinn’s lightsaber hilt.

The zabrak laughs. It sends chills down his spine. “And what do you plan to do with that? You’re no Jedi.”

“Neither are you,” Ben retorts, glaring up into yellow eyes. His fingers search for the activation switch. _Is this—_

“No,” the zabrak says. “I’m better. And you no longer amuse me.” He positions his saber for an overhand strike and brings it down—

— _yes, it is—_

—and a blade of brilliant green light meets the red. Ben squints against the intensity of the illumination. He can feel the heat of the energy against his skin, uncomfortably close. His heart pounds. _It worked._ He tightens his two-handed grip on the handle and tries to angle it so that blade isn’t quite so close to his face.

The zabrak leans in, though, and presses down hard with his own saber. “Lucky block,” he hisses.

Ben grunts. He isn’t used to the odd weight distribution of the lightsaber; or rather, to the fact that all of the physical weight is in the handle only.

“So you want to fight like a Jedi?” Yellow eyes narrow and suddenly the red blade is pulled back. “Get up then.”

Warily, Ben stands, keeping his blade angled diagonally in front of his body. The zabrak is toying with him, but that’s okay. As long as he doesn’t kill him before Koyi and Giza get there. He adjusts his grip on the hilt. His hands are shaking—not just from the adrenaline coursing through his veins but from the rush of memories brought on by this fight. It’s been decades since he’s last held any lightsaber at all and he never had a chance to wield a full-powered one.

“Ready?” the zabrak asks with a smirk. He strikes before Ben can respond.

Ben moves to block and he does manage it but he’s slow. Clumsy. His muscles remember the steps but his body’s changed from the last time he tried to execute any of them. It wouldn’t be enough to ward off any true attack but the zabrak isn’t trying to kill him yet; his attacks are deliberate and clearly communicated. He seems to be watching him consideringly.

“Close your eyes, Ben!” Koyi says in his ear. Then there’s a shout from above that draws the zabrak’s gaze and bright white light explodes all around them. Ben closes his eyes and covers them with his forearm for good measure and throws himself back. He can still see blotches of white light.

Chaos descends.

There are screams and shouts—from the zabrak he’d been fighting, from the other zabrak, from the tholothian Jedi.

Someone thuds down lightly in front of him. He doesn’t dare uncover his eyes to check but he feels a familiar hand wrap around his arm.

“Let’s go,” Koyi says. He knows that she’ll be holding up her shield over them, set to its brightest luminosity. They run to the side, steps synchronized; they’ve practiced this multiple times though it’s been some time since they’ve had to use it.

“How many light grenades did you use?” Ben gasps. The imprint spots are still bright in his vision.

“All of them,” she says simply.

Through the comms, he hears Giza shouting. “Go! Get your friend and get out of here.” Then there’s a deep roar and a crackle and she screams.

“Giza!” he shouts. He instinctively turns his head back and cracks one eye open behind the relative safety of his arm. He can’t see anything, though; everything is still white.

Koyi’s grip tightens on his arm; they keep running. They don’t have a choice.

Someone who must be the Jedi says, “No!”

There’s a scuffle and a thud.

Then: “ _Kriff_ ,” Giza moans and Ben’s heart starts beating again, “my arm.”

“Are you—” Koyi asks, breathless.

“I’m out, I’m out. Ahnuuk, fire torpedoes. _Now_.”

“Firing now,” Ahnuuk confirms.

Ben feels the bone-thrumming vibration of a ship flying low overhead and hears a sharp whistle. Then several loud booms shake the ground. He stumbles but manages to keep his feet. A cloud of dust rises that makes him cough.

“Charge!” Hondo’s voice shouts over the comms.

“What—” Ben cautiously uncovers his eyes and squints them open. The light’s faded and all around them is smoke from the explosions. He looks back at where he’d last seen the two zabraks and can just make out two dark shapes amid the smoke. One looks like he’s on his knees and the other one is hunched over.

Then Hondo and his pirates swarm over the outcropping of rocks into the valley they’d been fighting in, blasters firing away.

The zabrak who had been hunched over reaches out and hauls the other one up. Then they turn and run. One of them swings his lightsaber behind them to provide cover but is limping; the other one seems to have lost his saber and is clutching his side.

“We’ve got them now, boys!” Hondo crows. “Keep firing. We’re gonna loot their ship and take back everything they stole from us.”

Ben watches them give chase. Even injured, it looks like the zabraks are pulling ahead. He doubts the pirates will be able to catch them.

Then he looks around for the Jedi and spots them on the far side of the field. The tholothian female has Jinn’s arm around her shoulders and she’s dragging his limp form up the ramp of their ship. She looks like she’s near collapse as well. She pauses to watch the pirates and then turns and meets Ben’s eyes with a deep frown. But she shakes her head and finishes boarding. The doors close behind them.

As the Jedi starfighter takes off, Ben looks down at the lightsaber hilt he’s still holding in his hands. He hooks it onto his belt with a sigh.


	9. Chapter 8 - Past Lives and Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Discard everything you thought you knew about the Jedi Order from legends, because I decided to switch things up. I don't think what I did contradicts with what canon has said about the Order but it definitely isn't compliant with legends.

“I don’t know who he was but he saved us both,” Master Gallia says lowly from her bed. The members of the Council—those few who are on Coruscant at the moment—are arrayed around the room she and Qui-Gon are sharing in the Temple healing ward.

Qui-Gon’s been out of the bacta tank for a day but he remains in a healing sleep. Anakin’s been sitting vigil at his bedside and whether the Council made a conscious decision to let him stay while they debrief Master Gallia or had just become so used to seeing Anakin there that it didn’t occur to them to ask him to leave the room Anakin doesn’t know. In any case, he keeps his eyes on Qui-Gon and his mouth shut and tries not to draw attention to himself.

“He was either foolhardy or arrogant, but he nearly paid for it with his life. More than that, he _used_ Qui-Gon’s lightsaber,” Gallia continues.

“Anyone can turn on a lightsaber,” Master Windu points out.

“He didn’t just turn it on, Mace. He _wielded_ it. He was using Shii Cho.”

“Are you sure?” Windu asks and Anakin can hear the frown in his voice. “You’re not mistaken?”

“Yes, I’m quite sure. I only got a glimpse but that’s all I needed. I’ve trained initiates in that form for years and he moved like one of them.”

“So, a former Jedi?” That’s Master Fisto joining in, sounding puzzled. “A fallen Jedi? A failed initiate? But why would he be with pirates?”

“I don’t know that he was. He was human, used a sniper rifle and had a jetpack. He had reddish blonde hair.”

Anakin freezes. _It can’t be._ He doesn’t dare move, for fear of looking suspicious. If it is Ben...but how? There are billions of beings in the galaxy, it could be any one of them.

But Ben knows Hondo.  

And Hondo’s pirates are based on Florrum.

They hadn’t seemed close enough for them to be working together. And Ben stays away from Jedi.

Who else could it be though? A sniper, and good enough to take on a couple of Sith— _Sith! He took on a couple of Sith. What was he_ thinking _?_ Anakin had _told_ him there were Sith around. _Why would he confront them?_ But as he looks at Qui-Gon—unconscious but alive, thankfully alive—he can’t help but feel entirely grateful that Ben hadn’t heeded his warnings and did do something to save his Master.

Master Yoda harrumphs, startling Anakin out of his thoughts. “Meditate on this, we will,” he declares with a thump of his gimer stick. “Rest now, you should. Rest now, both of you should. And Knight Skywalker too.”

Anakin jumps and looks over sheepishly at the Grand Master. Yoda has an amused glint in his eyes. “Yes, Master,” he says with a bow of his head.

When the Councilors file out of the room, Master Yoda pauses at the doorway and gives him a pointed look. Right, he had meant for Anakin to rest _now_ , rather than later. Holding in a sigh—because doing otherwise would mean a gimer stick to the shin—he gets up, tells Qui-Gon mentally that he’ll be back soon, and follows the elderly Master out of the halls of healing.

“Kit,” Master Windu is saying up ahead, “will you check with the Council of Assignment and see if any Jedi fitting Adi’s description have left?” He suddenly stops and turns sharply back to the healing chamber and calls out, “Does he still have Qui-Gon’s lightsaber?”

“I presume so, as I didn’t have time to get it back from him,” Master Gallia’s voice answers. Then, softer, “Though of course, he could have sold it by now.”

Master Windu doesn’t curse but Anakin can see that it’s a very near thing. He strides away at a speed and force that makes his dark brown robes billow behind him. Though it isn’t at all appropriate for the gravity of the situation, Anakin marvels at the drama in his exit.

 

* * *

 

He does try to go to sleep, really. But he can’t. His mind’s racing from everything that’s happened.

He gets up and tries to go through the meditation katas but he’s too restless for those too.

Finally he picks up his Hardeen communicator with a huff and calls the only contact that’s in it. It takes longer than usual for the call to connect and when it does, Ben must be hunched over close to his own communicator because all Anakin can see of him is his head and shoulders. It gives him a clear view of the tension around his eyes and the furrow in his brows. It’s strikingly different from the way Ben held himself the last time they had spoken.

“Yes? What is it?” Ben asks shortly. He looks distracted.

Anakin can’t help being a little taken aback. “Uh, hi Ben. It’s me, Anakin.”

“I know it’s you, Skywalker. That’s why I answered,” Ben says impatiently.

“Oh. Is something wrong?” He squints at the bounty hunter’s image, trying to see what’s going on in the background or if he’s been injured or something.

“No, we’re just in the middle of some tricky negotiations.” Ben blows out a heavy breath. “Is this an emergency?”

Tricky negotiations? Is Ben selling Qui-Gon’s lightsaber? His heart catches in his throat. He should ask, he _needs_ to ask, but part of him doesn’t want to know. Ben, for all that he’s a bounty hunter, has always struck Anakin as a decent person. Surely he wouldn’t just sell such a weapon to the highest bidder. Would he?

Anakin can’t make up his mind and Ben’s waiting for an answer, so he just gives a weak, “No, not really.”

“I’ll call you back then,” Ben says and the line cuts off before Anakin can say anything else.

Dread pools in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

Ben doesn’t call back that night. Or the next day. Or the day after that. By the time he finally calls, Anakin’s beside himself with worry and self-doubt and recrimination—should he have asked if Ben was selling Qui-Gon’s lightsaber? Or was he right to trust his instinct and let Ben deal with whatever crisis he had been in the middle of without any distractions?

He hasn’t been able to get a full night’s sleep and he’s been relying more and more on the Force to stay awake during the day, which is the complete opposite of what he should be using this reprieve from the battlefront for. It’s left him feeling a little nauseous and a lot jumpy.

When his Hardeen commlink buzzes, he nearly drops it fishing it out of his robes. He hurries into an empty meditation room off on the side of the Room of a Thousand Fountains where he’d been trying to immerse himself in the Living Force.

“Ben?” he asks as soon as the call connects. “Is everything okay now?”

The bounty hunter looks about as bad as Anakin feels. At least this time, he’s not hunched over his communicator so the situation must be a little better than before. He grunts. “Yes, it’s all taken care of. So. What can I do for you?”

And now that the moment’s here, Anakin finds himself at a loss for what to say. He can’t just start off by asking about the lightsaber. That would be rude. “I, uh, heard about a fight on Florrum...and some of the participants sounded like you and your associates.”

“Ah. I take it the two Jedi made it back to the Temple then?” At Anakin’s nod, he asks, “And how are they?”

“They’re recovering.” Well, Gallia’s out of the halls of healing and on light duty, and Qui-Gon’s in an induced healing trance with bacta patches on his wounds so it’s close enough to the full truth. “Thanks for your help.”

Ben waves aside his gratitude. “I did tell you I didn’t like collateral damage.”

Not liking collateral damage and taking on a Sith are two very different things but Anakin bites back the protest; he doesn’t want to fight with Ben over this. “How are you? Did you get hurt?”

“We’ll be okay,” Ben says, which isn’t quite what Anakin had asked. But before he can question him further, Ben holds up a very familiar lightsaber handle. “I presume you called about this?”

Anakin can’t help his gasp of relief. “Yes. Thank the Force, you still have it.”

“Of course I still have it.” Ben looks affronted. “Do you know how dangerous this could be in the wrong hands?”

Anakin huffs out a laugh, feeling something settle inside of him. “You don’t have to tell _me._ I was hoping I might be able to get it back from you. Qui-Gon will need it when he wakes up.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just send it to the Temple via overnight delivery, shall I? That kind of service will cost quite a fortune, though. I hope the Jedi will be able to pay the fees.”

Anakin splutters. “You can’t put the lightsaber in the _mail_ ,” he hisses urgently.

Ben looks amused. “Don’t sound so scandalized, Skywalker. I know some truly excellent courier services. Very reliable. Highly rated.”

Anakin squints at him. “Are you joking with me? You’re kidding, right?” Ben’s dejarik face gives nothing away. “In any case, no, don’t send it to us. I can pick it up in person.”

“Suit yourself,” Ben says mildly, like he thinks it’s a waste of time for Anakin to traipse halfway across the galaxy just to pick up a lightsaber. “I’m transmitting the coordinates for a meeting place to you now. We can talk about price when you get there.”

Anakin’s heart sinks. But of course Ben’s going to want something in return, he tells himself. It’s only fair. He could have sold the lightsaber for any sum of money to any disreputable being in the galaxy and instead he held onto it knowing that Anakin was going to ask for it back. He ignores the small voice in the back of his head that says that maybe Ben’s just holding onto it because he knows the Jedi will do nearly anything to keep such a weapon out of certain people’s hands and he’s planning on taking advantage of that.

Ben wouldn’t do that. Ben’s a good person. Anakin can feel it and he’s always trusted his instincts.

A soft beep confirms that he’s received the coordinates. It’s somewhere in the Mid Rim, so at least it won’t take very long to go and come back. “Got it. I’ll head out now. I should get there in a day or two.”

“Great. I’ll see you soon, Skywalker.”

“Call me Anakin,” he says, heart pounding. “Skywalker sounds so...formal.”

Ben arches a brow at him and quirks his lips up into a small smirk. “Very well...Anakin. I’ll see you soon.” His image blinks out as the call is terminated.

Anakin bites his lip, feeling a thrill go through him at hearing Ben say his name in his distinct accented mix of Core and Outer Rim. His giddiness only lasts until he steps out of the alcove and comes face to face with Bant. The mon calamari has a peculiar look on her face, one that Anakin can’t quite decipher.

“Anakin,” she starts slowly, hesitantly, “who was that you were talking to?”

“That was, uh….” He trails off guiltily but there’s no reprimand on Bant’s face. _I’m a full Knight_ , he reminds himself. _And I wasn’t doing anything wrong_. He steels himself to politely evade her but the look in her eyes stops him—weary and concerned, the brightness that had been in them prior to the war dimmed. Losing Vebb had been hard on her and Master Fisto. She’s been spending nearly all of her free time meditating by one of the fountains; Anakin guesses that as much as they bring back painful memories of her lineage family bonding with each other in this room, it still brings her comfort to be here. And now she’s probably worried about _him_ , even though she’s only really known him as her younger line brother’s friend. “That was a contact of mine,” he finally settles on saying; it’s vague enough to protect Ben’s identity but should satisfy Bant’s curiosity and concern. “I’ve worked with him before; he’s reliable. I was making arrangements to get Qui-Gon’s lightsaber back.”

Bant’s eyes widen in surprise. “And you’re going to meet him? Alone?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. I’d feel better if Ahsoka stays here so that one of us will be around when Qui-Gon wakes up. But again, my contact is reliable. I trust him.” He’s always trusted Ben, if he’s honest, even when he was in that cube with him under a false identity and they were both just trying to stay alive.

“Anakin, you can’t go by yourself. Anything could happen! If he’s operating in the black market, he could be selling you out. Or maybe he himself is being targeted, especially if he’s gotten hold of a lightsaber.”

“It’s fine. If anything happens, I can take care of it.”

Bant’s expression turns stubborn and Anakin resists the urge to groan. It seems he’s just made her more worried, rather than less. “I’m coming with you. What would Qui-Gon say if he knew I just let you go and something happened?”

“You really don’t have to.”

Bant ignores his weak protest. “I’ll just grab my bag and meet you in the hangar.”

Anakin gives in with a sigh. “All right.”

Ben hadn’t said to come alone, after all. And maybe he can convince Bant to at least stay on the ship.

 

* * *

 

 He isn’t able to convince Bant to stay on the ship.

The coordinates that Ben had given him lead them to Kalinda and the specific directions lead them to a small trading outpost.

Ben’s sitting at one of the outdoor tables with the purple-skinned twi’lek that Anakin remembers seeing on Tatooine and a green-scaled mon calamari. He’s sitting at an angle away from them so it’s actually the twi’lek who notices them first. She leans over to say something to Ben as Anakin and Bant draw near.

Ben turns his head with a smirk and then he freezes. His skin pales and he’s looking at something behind Anakin like he’s seen a ghost.

Bant gasps behind him and he realizes that it’s not some _thing_ that Ben is looking at, it’s some _one_. He glances over and sees that Bant’s stopped a few steps away and is staring at Ben with wide eyes. Her scales have paled to a faint yellow instead of their usual deep orange.

“Bant?” he asks, concerned.

She doesn’t seem to hear him. She takes a tentative step forward and says softly, “Obi-Wan?”

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin repeats, confused. Who’s that? He turns to ask Ben what’s going on but the question dies on his lips.

Ben’s standing now, looking shaky. One gloved hand grips the back of his chair tightly like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “Bant,” he breathes.

“Obi-Wan!” Bant rushes by him and throws her arms around Ben, hugging him tightly. “Obi-Wan, thank the Force, you’re _alive_.”

Ben stands frozen, more taken aback and surprised than Anakin’s ever seen him. His associates look bemused too, half standing from their seats and hands reaching for their weapons. They eye him and Bant carefully and Anakin really hopes this isn’t going to turn into a messy showdown.

Eventually, though, the tension leaves Ben’s body and he gingerly wraps an arm around Bant’s back. “Hey, Bant. Long time no see.” His voice is gruff and shaky.

Her only response is a choked laugh. She squeezes her arms around him tighter.

“Oof, too tight,” Ben rasps, but there’s a small smile on his face. “Can’t breathe.”

“Good,” Bant declares but after one more squeeze, she does let go of him and step back, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “You’re an idiot, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The biggest idiot to ever live. You forget how to use a comm or something? Can’t even just let us know that you hadn’t been taken by pirates or killed in the attack? We thought you were _dead_!”

Ben frowns. “Why would I have been taken by pirates? And I wrote you a letter before I left! I told you—”

“To move on with our lives and forget about you?”

“To not worry about me and that I’ll be fine!”

“Yeah, and then your ship got attacked by pirates and we didn’t even know if you were okay or not. All we knew was that you never made it to Bandomeer.” Bant slaps Ben on the arm and Anakin winces, bracing for the bounty hunter to potentially pull a knife on her or something. But he only looks shocked.

“What? What pirate attack?”

Bant opens her mouth to respond but the twi’lek clears her throat. “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private? You two are attracting attention.” She gives Bant and Anakin a pointed look.

Anakin gapes at her and points at himself. “Me? I haven’t said anything!”

“You look like a Jedi.”

“B-but—I—” he pinches his poncho between his fingers and pulls it out to the side, touches the brim of his wide hat with his other hand. “I’m wearing...I’m in disguise!”

The twi’lek snorts.

“It’s in the way you carry yourselves,” Ben says. He gives his shoulder a consoling pat, then turns to lead them away from the table.

“And how’s that?” Anakin asks with a pout, hurrying to match his pace.

“Like you’re secure in your knowledge of your place in the world. Your role, your job. That you’re not alone in life.”

“That you have a home to go back to,” the mon calamari chimes in. “Food to eat.”

“That you haven’t had to fight for every scrap you own and every credit in your account.” The twi’lek sounds both bitter and proud.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Ben says. “You’re lucky, that you have a place where you belong. And the Jedi are a good group of people.

“Yeah, but you have all that too. You’ve got—” he makes a gesture with his hand at the three hunters, trying to both convey and ask silently if they’re each other’s family the way the Jedi are for him and Bant. “Right?”

Ben inclines his head. “We are now. But it took a lot to get where we’re at and we’re...in the minority in our world for it.”

“Of course, there’s also the fact that you walk like you’ve had combat training for years and you know you can take on anyone in the vicinity without breaking a sweat,” the twi’lek says slyly, throwing a smirk Ben’s way.

Ben studiously ignores her. Anakin feels very much like he’s inadvertently gotten caught in the middle of something he doesn’t quite understand.

They climb over a rocky outcropping and then what Anakin presumes to be Ben’s ship comes into view sitting in the flat-planed valley below. It’s a freighter, painted a dark gray with splotches of lighter gray in a random pattern. It stands out starkly against the pale red dirt of Kalinda but he imagines that it would blend in well enough in space.

Ben leads them around to the back of the ship and the loading ramp starts sliding out as they’re approaching. Anakin glances up to see Giz’ahan standing at the open doorway, arms crossed and eyes mildly amused. She doesn’t say anything as they’re all climbing up into the cargo hold but light reflecting off of one of her arms startles him.

“Your arm!” he blurts out. It’s a slim mechanical prosthetic, made of shiny black metal. She didn’t have that on Tatooine. “It’s…” he trails off with a wince. He shouldn’t have drawn attention to it; it’s obviously new.

Her eyes harden. “A souvenir from your lightsaber-wielding friend.” She uncrosses her arms and holds the prosthetic out, curling the fingers into a fist and spreading them back out. Its movements are a little stilted, jerky. “I’m still getting used to it.”

“I can help you calibrate it,” Anakin offers. When she narrows her eyes at him, he holds out his right arm, with the glove he wears whenever he’s out. He’d opted to strip off the skin covering so that he could have easy access to the inner mechanical workings but he’d gotten tired of having to clean it of dirt and sand after every mission. “I’ve had mine for a few years, lost my arm in a fight against a Sith, too.”

She hums noncommittally but Anakin gets the sense that that’s as much as she’ll give anyone she doesn’t know.

“How’s everything outside?” Ben asks. When Anakin looks over, though, he sees that the bounty hunter’s looking at the far corner of the hold, rather than at Giz’ahan. He follows his gaze to a small camera installed near the ceiling. It’d have been imperceptible without the Force enhancing his sight. He wonders if this is Ben’s way of showing them that he trusts them, at least a little.

“All clear,” a disembodied lilting voice answers. It sounds a little like a flute—light and airy. “I’ll keep watch up here.”

“Okay, good.”

“You want us to give you some privacy?” Giz’ahan asks.

Ben glances around at the group and shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I should have told you sooner but by the time I was comfortable doing so, it never came up.”

“I have to say, somehow I’m not surprised that you’ve always had friends in high places, Ben,” the disembodied voice comments.

“It’s more than that though, isn’t it?” Anakin asks with a sinking feeling, recalling Master Fisto’s words: _a former Jedi, a fallen Jedi, a failed Initiate_. Which one does Ben fall into? He’s never _felt_ dark to Anakin, though he knows that he could be deliberately hiding that. Anakin probes into the Force now, with directed intent. He frowns. He doesn’t _feel_ —“But I can’t feel you in the Force at all!” He looks to Bant, bewildered. Every living being is connected by the Force, whether they were Force sensitive or null.

Bant frowns. “Anakin’s right,” she says slowly. “I used to but I can’t sense you at all now. What happened?”

“I don’t—nothing _happened_ ,” Ben says. “I don’t know why you can’t sense me anymore. I didn’t know that you _couldn’t_ sense me anymore.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Let me just start from the beginning.” He gazes at each of them in turn and ends on Anakin. “I was a Jedi Initiate.”

Anakin feels like he’s been punched in the gut at the words, even though he’d already known it had to have been that at the least. He braces himself to hear that Ben had fallen to the Dark side, that he’d been befriending a Sith apprentice all this time. That Ben perhaps had been cultivating their acquaintance for nefarious purposes. Anakin would have no choice, he’d have to take him down. Even though every fiber of his being is screaming against it. Even the Force, he feels, is protesting.

“I was going to be a Jedi Knight,” Ben says, turning now to face the other hunters. “I took the trials when I was thirteen, and I passed them. But no Knight Master selected me as an apprentice. I went before the Council of Assignments and they told me that Masters in the Agricultural Corps and the WSEC had offered to take me on.” Ben pronouncing the acronym for the Wild Space Exploration Corps as ‘double-yoo-sec’ is what really brings it home for Anakin that Ben truly was a member of the Jedi Order at some point in his life. Everyone else either refers to it by its full name or reads off each letter of the acronym individually.

“It wasn’t the worst news I could have received,” Ben continues, oblivious to Anakin’s internal struggle, “but being a Knight was all I ever wanted, all I dreamed of doing. And both of those branches of the Order are based outside of Coruscant, which I had never left before. I chose the Agricultural Corps, because at least that was still within the Republic. But in the end, I couldn’t do that either. Master Mundi escorted me to the spaceport. He was with the Agricultural Corps before he took a seat on the Council and he was telling me about the training, trying, I suppose, to reassure me. Master Neesi met us there and the two of us boarded the ship. Just before we took off, though, I realized I couldn’t go.” Ben grimaces. “The doors were closing and I felt like I was being trapped and taken away from my home and I panicked. I told Master Neesi that I was sorry but that I had to go back and I ran. I didn’t even take my bag.

“I didn’t see Master Mundi anywhere but I started heading back to the Temple anyway. Then I realized that if I went back, everything would be the same. None of the branches based on Coruscant had thought I’d be a good fit for them, so my only options would still be to leave the planet. So what was the point of going back? I’d just have to go through this all over again. And the Masters would be disappointed because this isn’t how a Padawan is supposed to behave. So I walked around for awhile, just to think and clear my head.”

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” Bant murmurs. “I wish you would have just come back. You were just a kid, I’m sure they could have worked something else out.”

Ben shrugs one shoulder. “It’s all in the past now. I found a place to sleep that first night, but there are parts of the planet that really aren’t safe for children, particularly those who look innocent and naive. And frankly, I _was_ innocent and naive. I used the Force to make people leave me alone, to not pay attention to me, and to move on when they did notice me. It didn’t always work but I was scared and the fear helped.”

Anakin’s heart clenches. He knows where this story is going. Master Yoda’s voice rings through his head: _“Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”_ And suffering leads to the Dark side. It’s an overly simplistic statement and Anakin hadn’t learned the nuances of it until he was well into his training. It’s not that Jedi should never feel fear or anger; that would be impossible. But they should never let those emotions drive their actions. And they should never use the Force out of fear or anger or hate. _That_ would lead a Jedi down the Dark side.

And that was exactly what Ben had done.

“Then I started using it to get food. I’d held off as long as I could but I was starving and becoming desperate. I only ever took enough to stay alive. And I never took from someone who needed it more than me. But one day, I reached out to the Force and something reached back. It was dark and cloudy, full of anger and malevolence. It terrified me. And it woke me up to what I was doing. I may not have had what it took to be a Jedi but I knew I didn’t want to become a darksider either.

I ran—not physically, but in the Force—and it followed me, whispering promises and temptations. I found a—you know how in streams and rivers, there are sometimes rocky outcroppings that cause bumps and ripples in the water? The water flows over and around them but there’s a space under them that’s calmer and sheltered?—I found one of those in the Force, if you imagine the Force to be like a river. And I dove in there and hid myself. I could still feel that dark presence searching for me, trying to get me to show myself. So I threw up all the shields that I could, trying to block it out. Every day, for weeks, I would add layers of shielding. I stopped using the Force. And that presence, thank the Force, got fainter and fainter. Eventually, I stopped sensing it. But I didn’t want to take any chances, so I reinforced my shields every week, and then every month, and then every year and then finally enough time had passed that I felt I was safe. I haven’t really thought about it at all since then until I met Anakin on Serenno.”

“So you’re not….” Anakin trails off, unable to even put his question into words.

“A darkside user? A Sith? No.” Ben shakes his head. “Or at least, I don’t think so. I’ve never used the Force to hurt someone or to make any of my kills.” Both Anakin and Bant wince at his matter-of-fact tone but Ben isn’t paying any attention to them. He’s looking, instead, at his associates and he looks almost apprehensive about their response.

Especially, Anakin figures, because none of them had said anything or responded in any way throughout his whole story.

Giz’ahan crosses her arms over her chest. “Use this Force of yours or not. It makes no difference to us,” she says flatly. But her lekku twitches and the tightness in Ben’s face eases.

“It’s probably better that you haven’t used it,” the other twi’lek chimes in. “Jedi are so...conspicuous. We’d have gotten caught many times over if we used their methods.”

“Hey!” Anakin squawks indignantly. “There’s nothing wrong with our methods!”

The twi’lek arches one of her brows and directs an unimpressed look at him. “Your weapon of choice hums and glows. It leaves a burning smell behind whenever it cuts something. It is the very opposite of ‘stealth.’”

Anakin huffs. “The lightsabers are only meant to be used as a last resort. If we need to use it, then the time for stealth is over.” He looks over to Bant for back-up.

“Most of us don’t get sent on stealth missions, anyway,” she says with a shrug and a light grin. She looks years younger than she had on the ship; it’s like she’d been carrying the burden of Ben’s unknown fate on her shoulders all these years and now she can set it down. “The people who we’re negotiating with for treaties or whose disagreement we’re mediating know that we’re coming and why. And now that we’re at war there’s more benefit to using lightsabers than not, even if they do paint a target on us for the Separatists. A trained Jedi can be the equivalent of a hundred battle droids.”

“Yes, I saw,” Ben says with a somber glance at the mon calamari at the same time that Giz’ahan says, “And what use do we have for a hundred battle droids? Our targets are individuals, not entire planetary systems.”

Bant cocks her head at Ben questioningly, but he doesn’t offer any clarification about what he had seen or when.

“Okay, so...that’s it? You all find out about Ben’s past and you’re just...okay with it?” Anakin asks into the silence that’s fallen while everyone’s watching Ben and Bant stare at each other trying to silently communicate _something_.

“We’ve always known that Ben didn’t grow up on the lower levels of Coruscant,” Giz’ahan says. “For awhile, we were expecting him to return to where he came from or for someone to come looking for him, but neither of those ever happened.”

At the same time, the green-scaled mon calamari says in a level tone, “Would _you_ hash out your problems in front of potential enemies?”

“We _did_ look!” Bant bursts out, and then bites off the rest of whatever she was going to say.

“We’re not enemies!” Anakin protests. He looks to Ben frantically, worried that _he_ thinks that they’re enemies.

“Oh?” the mon calamari says. “So the Jedi just sent you here to negotiate for the return of your weapon and they have no further interest in Ben?”

“Well, of course they’re interested in Ben—”

“ _What?_ ” Ben interrupts sharply.

“—but the Council didn’t _send_ me. I heard Master Gallia’s description of Ben and figured out who she was talking about. I came on my own. Oh, er, and Bant overheard my conversation with Ben and asked to come with. This isn’t official Jedi business or anything.”

Ben holds up his hand and Anakin stops his rambling. “What do you mean, the Jedi are interested in me? They know who I am?” He actually looks worried.

“I don’t think so? Not yet, anyway. I mean, I haven’t told anyone so besides Bant, no one knows who you are. But Master Gallia could tell that you had some Jedi training when you were fending off Darth Maul, so the Council’s looking into former Jedi who’ve left the Order.”

“Sithspit,” Ben curses vehemently. Now his associates look concerned too.

“What? What’s wrong?”

No one answers him and Bant looks just as confused as he feels. Ben bites his bottom lip while he thinks and the rest of the hunters watch him in silence.

Finally, Ben reaches into one of the deep pockets of his coat and pulls out Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. He weighs it in his hand and looks at each of his associates with a questioning arch of his brows. As far as Anakin can tell, none of them make any kind of response, verbal or silent. And yet, Ben gives a decisive nod like they’d all come to an agreement on something before he looks back at Anakin. He holds out the lightsaber handle and says, “My price for this is that the Jedi don’t find out who I am.”

Anakin stares at him, speechless for a second. “How...I don’t….” He shakes his head. “How am I supposed to guarantee _that_? I don’t have any say in what the Council does. And even if I hacked into the Temple’s records and deleted your information, there are Masters on the Council who knew you when you were an Initiate. It’s not like I can wipe their memories.”

“I’ve cut all ties with the Jedi. You and your apprentice, and Bant, are the only three who know me. You and Bant are the only two who know my past. I want it to stay that way.”

Anakin looks helplessly at Bant, but all she says is, “What about Garen? And Reeft? They’d keep your secret, you know they will. They’ll take it with them into the Force. I can’t not tell them that you’re alive and well.”

Ben hesitates. Then, he gives a small nod and Bant looks relieved.

“But why don’t you want the Jedi to know who you are? We could work together!” Anakin says.

“The Jedi wouldn’t want to work with me. They’d want to interrogate me and find out if I’ve gone Dark.”

“But you haven’t.” Anakin doesn’t know why he’s so sure that Ben’s told the truth, but he is.

“I have no proof to offer them. You’ve said yourselves that you can’t sense me in the Force, which means you can’t verify if I’m aligned with the Light or the Dark. And I’ve spent more of my life killing for monetary compensation than learning the ways of the Jedi.”

Anakin has to admit that that doesn’t sound good. “Yeah, you’re not really making a good case for yourself.”

“Well, I’m not on trial now, am I? And I don’t plan to be.”

“But we could accomplish so much together.” He’s grasping at thin wisps of hope, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to so easily give up this possibility. “You have—you’ve got different resources than we do. We’ve been trying to track the Sith down and take them into custody but we’re always a step behind. You guys managed to anticipate where they were going and set up ahead of time to meet them. We have the training and the firepower to apprehend them, and you have the means to find them. Together, we could finally get them.”

Ben shakes his head. “That was just chance, that we encountered them like that. We were already in the vicinity when Hondo contacted us for assistance so we were able to get there first.”

 _Was it really just chance, or was it the Force?_ Anakin wants to ask, but doesn’t. The Force works in mysterious ways but he doesn’t think that Ben would appreciate hearing that now.

“Okay, but still. We could combine our resources and work together to capture them. Don’t you want to help make the galaxy a safer place for everyone?”

Ben gives him a pinched, pained look. Anakin winces and admits to himself that perhaps that was a bit too trite.

“That zabak _does_ owe me an arm,” Giz’ahan drawls. There’s a sharp glint in her eyes.

Anakin considers and quickly discards the notion of pointing out that he didn’t make the suggestion out of a need for revenge. Revenge is not the Jedi way and Anakin absolutely does not condone it. But if it’ll get Ben to agree to work with him….

“That _was_ a very expensive job. And we do need to replenish our account,” the other twi’lek adds. But though her words are about the state of their finances, there’s a bloodthirsty look in her eyes that Anakin is sure no amount of financial strain would warrant.

“You too, Koyi?” Ben says and ah, Anakin thinks, so _she_ must be the Koy’itar that Ben had mentioned months ago when they were staking out the Chancellor’s apartment together.. He wonders if it’s too late to do a round of introductions so he knows what to call Ben’s other mon calamari friend and whoever their lookout is. Koy’itar just gives a one-shouldered shrug. One of her lekku lifts up and twists a little. Ben sighs. “Very well.” To Anakin, he says, “if we do this, it’ll be as bounty hunters.”

Anakin gives him a blank look, because what else would it be as? Ben’s the only one with some Jedi training and that was years ago.

“Which means,” Ben elaborates patiently, “that you’ll need to post a bounty on the two Sith.”

 _Oh_. “But the Jedi don’t have money for that kind of bounty! We’re not a for-profit organization. We’re funded by the Senate, and we get donations sometimes from citizens, but there’s no way we’d be able to put up a reward like that. Unless you….I don’t suppose you’d agree to a minimum-reward bounty like you did for the Chancellor?”

Giz’ahan snorts. “You’re not _that_ helpless.”

“Giza,” Ben says chidingly. She just smirks back at him. Ben huffs and directs his attention back to Anakin. “You’ll just have to find a way.”

Anakin purses his lips. “Well, maybe the Senate will back it. They did agree to pay El-Les and Bric to help train the troopers on Kamino, after all.”

“There you go, then,” Ben says. “Get the Senate to post the bounty and if the reward is right, we’ll consider taking the job.”

Anakin squints at him but he can’t tell if Ben is really that noncommittal about the job or if it’s just a front.

“In any case,” Ben says, waving Qui-Gon’s lightsaber in reminder.

“Oh, right. Alright, you’ve got a deal,” Anakin says because what else can he do? They need the lightsaber back. He’ll just have to hope that no one thinks to question him about Ben and make sure that Ahsoka knows not to say anything about him either.

“Excellent,” Ben says. He tosses the lightsaber to him and Anakin catches it deftly. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

The green-scaled mon calamari pulls a lever on the wall and the cargo doors start to slide open. It’s as clear a signal as any that their meeting is over and the two Jedi are expected to leave.

Bant steps up to grab Ben’s arm, though, giving it an urgent squeeze. “We did look for you, Obi-Wan,” she says intently. “We searched for _months_ . We got word a week after you left that you never made it to Bandomeer. The Department of Transportation tracked down the remains of the ship and concluded that it had been attacked after it left one of its ports in the Outer Rim. Master Qui-Gon went out to investigate in person. Anyone who had even a rudimentary bond with you—Master Nu, Master Drallig, Master Yoda, me, Garen, Reeft, even Master Mundi, and many others—we looked in the Force for you. At first, we found traces but they kept getting fainter and fainter. And eventually, they disappeared completely. The Council concluded that you must have been killed. And we _knew_ you, we knew you would never just sit quietly and cooperate with pirates. You’d try to organize an escape or fight back. We figured you must have died in the attempt.”

Ben pats the back of her hand. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have cooperated with them. But I was never taken by them. I’m not upset that the Jedi didn’t find me, Bant. I never expected you to be looking for me. I didn’t even know the attack had happened. But I am sorry that you went through all that. Had I known, I’d have gotten a message to you somehow.”

Bant’s fin ripples as she wraps her other arm around Ben for another hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I don’t care what you’ve been doing all these years or what you’re doing now. I’m just happy that you’re alright, Obi-Wan.”

“Anakin has my contact information,” Ben says. “He can give that to you.” Anakin beats down a sudden flare of jealousy; Ben’s not _his_ and he and Bant were clearly close when they were younglings. Of course they would want to stay connected. “But, Bant,” Ben continues, gently separating from her, “I’m Ben now. Obi-Wan was a child who was naive in the ways of the galaxy and only had dreams of being a Jedi Knight and was too stubborn and scared to listen to his teachers and try another path. I left him behind long ago.”

Bant’s expression falls. Then she takes a deep breath and gathers herself. “Right,” she says. She lets go of Ben’s arm and takes a step back. “Okay. Well, then—Ben, I hope we’ll see each other again soon. Take care of yourself.” The other mon calamari suddenly says something to Bant in Mon Calamarian and she smiles. “Thank you,” she says while Ben splutters.

Anakin is dying of curiosity but he manages to hold it in until after he’s said his own farewell to Ben and the other hunters and he and Bant are trekking back to their own ship. “What was that, that the mon calamari hunter said?”

Bant grins. “‘I’ll swim by his side no matter how deep or murky the water.’ It’s traditionally a promise made between parents about a young child they’re going to take swimming or from an older sibling to their parents about a younger sibling if they’re escorting them to school. We’re an amphibious species, but deep waters can be treacherous for inexperienced swimmers.”

“So she’s saying she’ll watch over him like he’s her child? And you’re the other parent?”

“Well, technically, I’d be his younger sister. Obi-Wan—Ben—is older than me. But yes, essentially, that’s what she’s saying.” Her amusement fades and her tone becomes more contemplative. “I’m glad that he has her on his team. I hope the other hunters he works with are just as good to him.”

Anakin thinks back to what he’s seen of them, but their interactions have been so few that it’s hard for him to draw any conclusions. “Well, Ben seems to trust them, so I assume so.”

“He’s always been a good judge of character,” Bant says. Anakin doesn’t know if she means it for his benefit or her own. When they enter their own ship, though, she hesitates at the entrance to the cockpit. “Anakin, would you be able to get us back to Coruscant on your own?”

“Of course,” he says automatically. “You know I can.”

“Would you be okay with me taking some time to meditate? I have...quite a bit to process, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need.” She gives him a slight bow which he returns reflexively and turns to head for the sleeping quarters at the back of the ship. He feels a pang of sympathy for her and the emotional upheaval she’s been through in the past couple of hours. He suspects that she’ll need more time than just the flight home to work through it. _Perhaps_ , he thinks as he starts up the engine and runs through the standard pre-flight procedure, _I do have it easier. I only know Ben, and she has to reconcile who he is now with who he used to be._


	10. Chapter 9 - Hunter and Hunted

Their first job with Giza’s new arm is a rather straightforward one: a retrieval. It’s even a job that, Ben thinks, the Jedi would approve of. Though perhaps they wouldn’t approve of their methods.

He rounds a corner of the slavers’ ship and stops at the sight of the tableau in front of him. He leans back to watch without drawing attention to himself. There’s a young male green-skinned mikkian holding a blaster on Koyi with shaking hands. His eyes are wide and his teeth gritted. Cowering in the corner behind him is a younger female mikkian with bright yellow coloring. Koyi’s back is to Ben but he can tell from the arch of her lekku that she’s both irritated and amused. Between them is the prone (most likely dead) form of one of the slavers.

“I was going to kill him,” the boy screams, “you should have let me! The things he said he was going to do to her—”

“Well, he’s dead now. You did a good job protecting her. Your...sister?” Mikkian rarely look alike, even if they’re close relations but it’s a fair guess given their ages and how they both ended up here together.

The boy gives a jerky nod.

“You did good,” Koyi says gently. “You kept her safe. And now he’s dead.”

“I should have been the one to do it,” he insists.

“So that the image of you killing someone will forever be burned into your sister’s mind?” There’s a hint of impatience in Koyi’s voice. “Taking a life, no matter how despicable that life is, changes you. Even if it was done in self defense or to protect others, it still affects you. If you decide later, when you’re grown, that it’s something you can or want to do, there’ll be plenty of opportunity for you to do so either in service of the Republic or for credits. But it’s not something a child should ever have to do. Now put away the blaster and let’s go. The others are waiting.”

There’s a moment longer of indecisiveness before the boy clicks the safety on the blaster—so he really had been ready to kill the slaver, Ben can’t help thinking with approval—and tucks it into the waistband of his trousers. As soon as the blaster is out of the way, the girl scrambles to her feet and throws her arms around her brother, burying her face into his back with a hiccuping sob. He keeps a wary eye on Koyi even as he maneuvers his sister around to his side. “It’s okay, Millie, it’s over now,” he murmurs into her head-tentrils. He guides her around the body of the slaver, giving a wide berth to Koyi as well, and down the hall towards the communal lounge.

Ben waits until they pass and then he steps out and falls in next to Koyi who’s following them after them at a distance.

“All clear?” she asks him.

He nods. Then he says, “So what do you think? Future hunter?”

“No. But perhaps military or public safety.” She’s usually right about these things.

“Shame,” he says. “He’s got a certain fire about him.” But he makes a mental note to keep track of the boy anyway.

When they enter the lounge, the Naboo human boy who they’d been contracted to retrieve gives a relieved shout and runs at the two siblings. “You’re okay, thank Shiraya!” The three of them huddle together in a heart-warming group hug.

There are four other children in the room—two female cathar, a male twi’lek, and a female lannik—who are eating at the table under Giza’s supervision.

The naboo pulls away from the hug and says, “See, Mikael? I told you my parents would send someone! We’re saved, we’re going home.”

The mikkian boy, Mikael, just gives a pained smile but the male twi’lek at the table speaks up. “ _You_ might but what’s going to happen to the rest of us?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re bounty hunters, not heroes. They didn’t come here for a rescue mission. They’re here on a job. Your parents hired them to come get you. But no one paid for them to get the rest of us.” Even as he’s saying it, though, the twi’lek glances at them uncertainly, almost unwillingly hopeful that perhaps there was also a reward for his rescue as well.

Ben shakes his head at him in the negative and his expression drops.

“So what are you going to do with us?” one of the cathar girls asks softly, looking down at her bowl of porridge. She stirs it listlessly.

The human boy gapes at her. “Do with—” He looks sharply around the room at the three hunters and his hands clench into fists. “I won’t go with you,” he declares.

“What? Davi, no, you can’t do that,” Mikael says, wrapping a hand around his upper arm like he can pull him away from making a decision like that.

Davi shakes him off. His eyes flash as he stares down Koyi. “I refuse to go with you unless you rescue them all too. If you want to collect on your bounty, you’ll have to save us all. Not just me.”

Koyi huffs in annoyance. “Lightbearer save me from the foolishness of children.”

Davi makes no move to back down. Ben has to give it to him: he’s got conviction. But they don’t have all day.

“We’re not leaving anyone behind,” he says with a mental roll of his eyes. “We’re already here and your parents are paying us enough that we can afford to drop them off somewhere safe.”

“Where?” Davi asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“We have a contact on Alderaan who will help them locate their families and reunite them.” He arches a brow at the boy, daring him to question them further. _Children, honestly._

“I guess that’s alright then,” Davi mutters reluctantly.

“Great. So glad that’s been settled to your satisfaction,” Ben says dryly. “Okay, if everyone’s all done eating, let’s move over to our ship so we can all get out of here.”

As they troop through the empty hallways to where their ship is docked, Davi says, “I want to call my parents.”

“Of course,” Giza says. “We have to show them that we’ve completed the job successfully, after all. And when they can expect us to arrive on Naboo.”

Davi nods. Then he says to the mikkians, “I’m gonna ask them to buy a communicator and bring it to the spaceport for you guys. If you need anything, just call me. Okay?” He doesn’t look over at them, but Ben can tell that he’s implying that _they_ might be untrustworthy. He almost wants to laugh, but he holds it in. No need to ruin their reputation as ruthless bounty hunters, after all.

Mikael smiles. “Thanks, Davi. I’m sure we’ll be fine, though.”

“Still. I’d feel better knowing that you have a way to get help if you need it.”

 

* * *

 

It takes them three days to get to Naboo  and drop off Davi and another three days after that to get to Alderaan.

“Oh, look at all of you,” their contact coos over the group of children as soon as she opens the door. “You must be exhausted and hungry after your trip. Come in, come in.” She emanates a gentle maternal vibe that works on the children like nothing the three of them had tried, which is why she’s so good at what she does. The kids enter the home at her invitation without hesitation; only Mikael looks back to make sure that they think it’s safe.

Koyi gives him an encouraging grin and makes a shooing motion with her hand. Ben follows the group inside while Koyi and Giza go to the attached mechanic shop to check in with a few former slaves they’d rescued who had decided to stay on after they’d gotten back on their feet.

Tann’rah lives up to the meaning of the name—“bright hope”—she’d been given by Koyi and Giza when she had contacted them about wanting to do something to help. She ladles out a bowl of hearty stew for each of the children and gets them settled around a large wooden dining table. Her place is cozy and warm and Ben can feel himself relaxing just as much as the children are. She flits around the table making sure they all have enough food and making inane chatter to fill up the silence. Then she shepherds them to one of her guest rooms, shows them where the washroom is, and leaves them with a stack of fluffy towels and a few changes of clothes. In the morning, Ben knows, she’ll sit with each of them and start to work with them on locating their families, if any of them have any remaining. If they don’t, she’ll help them get connected with a foster family.

She’s been doing this work for eighteen years and she’s helped innumerable people of all ages either return to their old lives or build new ones. Most of them have been former slaves freed by Ben and his House, but some have been people who’d been hit hard by life circumstances and had heard about her from friends. To all of them, she’s known as Tann’rah, or affectionately as Tannie. Ben is one of the few who knows the name she was born with, the name she had when they had rescued her from a dying slave owner who had a crisis of conscience and decided her last act would be to free her slave and make sure she got to Republic space safely. It had been his first off-planet job with Koyi and Giza, when he was fifteen.

“Ben,” she greets now with a smile, re-entering the room with two bowls of stew. She hands one to him where he’s sitting by her fireplace. “I’m so happy to see you again. It’s been so long since you’ve come by.”

“Far too long, Shmi,” Ben agrees absentmindedly. “You’ve been well, I hope?” He glances up at her as he takes the bowl and jolts at the striking resemblance her eyes have with those of a certain Jedi Knight that Ben’s newly acquainted with. “Shmi…” he asks slowly, even as memories start to flood him. “Whatever happened, with that child you were carrying when we rescued you?”

Shmi had been seven months pregnant. And the child was so strong in the Force that Ben could feel it even through layers and layers of shielding. He’d panicked, thinking that his shields were failing, and spent days in meditation shoring them up after they’d completed the job.

“Oh!” Shmi’s eyes brighten. “It was like you had said, they tested him in the hospital after he was born. They said his midichlorian count was high enough to make him eligible to join the Jedi Order. A couple of Jedi Knights came and told me about what they do and how they would teach him to use the Force to help people if I agreed to let him be a Jedi. I visited the Temple and it was such a calming place. And I thought to myself, you know, I love my son and I’d do everything in my power to give him the best life possible. But he’s been blessed with this power that most people don’t have and he can do so much with it. He could make a big difference in a lot of people’s lives and in the process of doing so, he can travel among the stars. Perhaps it was overly sentimental and romantic of me, but I gave him the name Skywalker because I wanted that for him.”

“Skywalker,” Ben repeats faintly. _Of course_ , he thinks to himself. Why hadn’t he realized it sooner? That was why Skywalker had seemed familiar to him, even when he was in the guise of Rako Hardeen. Years ago, Ben had come across him and he’d left such an impression on him through the Force that even decades later, Ben could feel it.

Shmi nods and beams proudly. “Anakin Skywalker.”

“The Hero with No Fear.”

“Yes.” She smiles fondly. “He was fearless even as a child. I raised him until he was three, and then I sent him to the Temple. He was always getting into everything. He’d fall and scrape his knees, but then he’d just get right back up again and keep going. Nothing could stop him. I’ve been following the news reports about him and his missions. I’m so proud of everything he’s accomplished.”

“You must be worried about him, with this war.” His thoughts are racing; should he tell her that he’s met her son? That he’s in semi-regular communication with him? Should he tell her that he and her son have had this unspoken flirtatious-and-potentially-romantic tension between them that Giza and Koyi have been teasing him about? He rapidly revises an earlier thought: this is actually much worse than what he had with Jango Fett.

“I am. I never expected that he would get caught up in a war when I agreed for him to be raised and trained by the Jedi. But then, I never expected that we’d get into an intergalactic war of this magnitude. But I have to trust in the Force, don’t I? That it will watch over Anakin and bring him safely through this.”

“Yes,” Ben murmurs, “I suppose that’s all anyone can do.”

A sudden, shrill whistle breaks into their conversation. Ben curses and pulls out his comm. It’s their emergency alarm. His heart races and his adrenaline spikes when he reads the message: ‘HQ compromised. Seek shelter elsewhere. Wait for all clear.’ The screen flashes blue and then goes dark—their internal communication network being dismantled so that none of them could be traced by anyone using the main hub.

The front door slams open and Giza calls sharply from the doorway, “Ben! We have to go. Now!”

Ben hurries to his feet, setting the bowl down on the nearest flat surface. “Sorry to cut this short, Shmi—”

Shmi stands with him. “No worries. Is everything okay?”

“No. Something’s happened at our headquarters.”

“Where are you going, then?”

“Back to our headquarters, of course,” he answers grimly. He shares a look with Koyi and Giza. They’re days away. They’d never make it in time for anything but clean-up and investigation. But that’s fine. They’ll find out who dared to attack them at home and make sure they regret it.

 

* * *

 

After they dock at the Anstares VI spaceport, they arm themselves with every weapon they have on board and stalk openly through the streets. There’s no use hiding that they’re here or why; their headquarters are on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the city. Even while they were landing, they could see that the windows had all been blown out.

The area around their building is completely deserted; the emptiness is almost oppressive, like an ominous cloud is lingering over them. Shards of transparisteel glass litter the ground.

They fire up their jetpacks and make a direct vertical ascent. Ben doubts that anyone’s laying in wait for them but he lets Koyi and Giza go first, with their light shields up and activated. When they step inside, they’re confronted with the sight of their main doors, and the large rectangle that’s been carved through the reinforced plastisteel. The edges of the rectangle are melted and there’s a scorched trail leading from the doors through the interior of the suite.

The furnishings are all intact, even the computer console. Ben has no doubt that it’s been wiped clean and destroyed but he feels sure even without checking that it’ll be from the work of their own people, rather than from the attackers. There are no bodies visible and no signs of a fight.

The three of them split off to do a preliminary check; Koyi and Giza with shields in one hand and daggers in the other, Ben with one of his short-range blaster rifles cocked and ready. He clears his section and lingers in one of the rooms, looking out pensively through the gaping hole of what used to be a window that had a clear view of the streets leading to and from the spaceport.

“There’s no one here,” Koyi reports.

“All of the jetpacks are gone, as well as everyone’s packs,” Giza adds.

Ben nods. “They would have seen them coming and evacuated immediately.” It’s House protocol and moreover, general bounty hunter sensibilities: there’s no reason to stay behind and defend a place. But he also knows that they were able to get away only because their attackers let them. He turns and eyes the large ‘X’ burned into the wall. By a red lightsaber, he has no doubt. He swallows. He did this. He brought this on his House. Made a target of them because he couldn’t stand by and not help the Jedi.

“This was just a warning,” he says hoarsely. It’s a taunt. Telling them that they can find them and attack them at any time, even at a place where they feel secure. That they could have killed everyone who was here that day, but chose not to.

But, “No,” Giza says grimly. “It’s a declaration of war. And we’re going to answer it.”

Metal clicks against itself and Ben looks over to see Koyi closing her prosthetic into a fist. She’s looking back at him and there’s an anger in her eyes that he hasn’t seen in a long time. “They chose this path, Ben. We’re going to make sure they realize what a mistake it was. Call your Jedi. Tell him we’re going to hunt down their Sith for them.”

Ben purses his lips. They’re right. Perhaps he’d set something in motion but the Sith took it to the next step. They can’t afford not to answer in kind and it would go against everything they’ve done to get to where they’re at to just let this go. He can feel it settling in his bones, this job. It would be the most personal one they’ve ever taken. Because now, it’s about them. He pulls out his personal communicator and places a voice call.

“Ben! Great timing,” Anakin’s voice floats out through the speakers. It’s bright and lively, a stark contrast to the deserted suite they’re standing in. “I’m actually with Chancellor Organa right now. He’s about the sign off on the bounty. It took a couple of weeks of negotiations but I think you’ll be happy with the reward—”

“We accept the job,” Ben cuts in bluntly.

There’s a pause and then Anakin asks hesitantly, “Ben? Is everything okay?”

Ben ignores the query. “Post the bounty through the Guild. House Olgkru will take it. We look forward to working with you.” He severs the connection before Anakin can respond.

“So now we regroup and establish new headquarters,” Giza says.

Ben shakes his head. “No new headquarters until this job is done. We can’t afford to let our guard down. We’ll need to coordinate on the move. Find Ahnuuk and Vinnath first. Then look for the others.” With their databases destroyed, they’ll have to track everyone down the hard way.

A couple of pings on his communicator signal incoming messages. One is from Anakin, asking again if everything is okay. The other is from the Guild bulletin, alerting them all to a new bounty that’s been posted by the Republic Senate for the apprehension or execution of two dangerous Sith. The reward, Ben notes, is generous enough that the collectors would be able to live comfortably after the job is done. Assuming that whoever takes it lives to collect the reward.

He taps and the notification dims as the confirmation goes through.

_Job accepted._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \o/ Here we are at last, the end! Pleasedon'tkillme. This story was initially meant to be the prequel to the story about Anakin and Ben working together to hunt down the Sith and one day, I may write that story but for now, this is where I'm stopping. Thanks for coming on this ride with me! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I liked writing it. <3


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